Battle At The Homefront
by Lee Davies
Summary: Captain Matthew Wallace wants to know what happened to a man who served in his unit during the Great War. Michael Banks has the answers.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my very first Mary Poppins story so I beg for your understanding. The concept of this jumped into my head one day and wouldn't leave, so here it is. I'm going to aim for a chapter a week, perhaps more if I can get the time to post. Any comments are welcomed.  
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><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

Captain Matthew Wallace, formerly of His Majesty's army, sat at a corner table in "The Boar's Head, one of the oldest pubs in London and waited for some of his former comrades who had been in the service with him during the Great War to arrive.

First to come striding in the door was Tom Henley, still as large and barrel-chested as he'd ever been with little Davy Barrows in tow. His dear friend James Harris entered moments later and greetings were made as they got themselves settled and ordered a pint of ale from the fresh-faced young man who informed them that his name was Michael, and he would be serving them this evening,

Once they had taken a few sips of their drinks and slaked their thirst, talk turned to their lives since they had returned from the front. James and his wife Alice had two thriving children while Davy would be taking the matrimonial plunge in a few weeks himself to Tom's youngest sister, Sarah.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to those who hadn't come back and Matthew said thoughtfully, "You know, there's one bloke that I've always wondered about. I can't remember his name for the life of me and the last that I ever saw of him was right before the battle of the Somme."

"What was he like, Matthew?" James asked, curiosity in his tone as he sipped at his pint.

Casting his mind back over seven years, Matthew took a moment. "He was a tall, lanky chap, Cockney from the sound of him. He was dark haired if I remember correctly and he always had a slight twinkle of mischief in his eyes. The thing I remember the most about him though were his drawings. He had a little brown book of things he'd set on paper and our commander would sometimes ask him to tack up a particularly good one so we could all see it,"

"Did he draw people, or buildings and things?" Tom queried as he leaned his elbows on the table.

Matthew smiled faintly. "He could draw absolutely anything. He'd do real things, like Big Ben or the Bridge but what we all liked best were the scenes that he dreamed up himself."

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he withdrew a folded piece of paper with tattered edges. "A couple nights before we charged, we were all talking about girls as we always did back then and someone started to tease him and ask if he had a girl back home. He didn't want to say anything, but we kept needling him until he admitted that there was someone he cared for very much, but she always had something to accomplish, so he never said anything to her about how he felt."

"Sounds something like me." James commented as Matthew nodded and continued with the tale.

"We asked if he had a picture of her and he said that he didn't, but since he'd known her for so long, he reckoned that he could draw her pretty well."

Unfolding the paper carefully, Matthew turned it so that the others could see. It was a woman who was laughing, dressed in a fine white dress with a bonnet to match it. Her eyes were a bright blue and her hair was dark, held back from her face but a few strands had worked themselves loose of their confines and curled around her face. "Blimey..." Davey breathed and Tom whistled softly.

"Of course we all asked about her." Matthew sighed, tapping the picture gently with a finger, "but all that he would tell us was her name was Mary, and she was a nanny who "went about with the wind" as he put it. This was the last drawing he did and tacked up, so once I lost track of him, I took the picture with me in the hopes that I could find out whatever became of him...and her."

Signaling the boy for a refill, James looked at his friend. "My Alice volunteers with several veteran organizations. Perhaps, if you will let me borrow this picture for a time, she can ask around and see if this woman is familiar to anyone. What was her name again?"

"Mary!" said a startled voice and the four men's heads quickly swiveled to look at the young water, Michael. He was starting at the drawing as though he'd just seen a ghost.

"You know who this woman is?" Matthew demanded, feeling a thrill of excitement that perhaps finally, he would figure out what had happened of the soldier and his mystery woman.

Michael nodded slowly, obvious trying to get his thoughts together. "Her name is Mary Poppins, or at least it was."

"Was?" Matthew repeated. His excitement began to subside. Had she died? Married another when she found out that her sweetheart had been killed in combat?

"It was her maiden name back when she was my old nanny, but ho did you come by Bert's drawing of her?" the lad asked.

The name jogged Matthew's memory and he exclaimed triumphantly, "Bert Alfred! That was his name!"

Young Michael's brow furrowed. "Did you know Bert, sir?"

"Not well, but we served in the same unit in the war." Matthew explained. "After a charge at the battle of the Somme, I never saw him again and always wondered what had happened to the pair of them. So when the unit was moved to another location, I took the drawing with me to see if I could track him down later."

Michael beamed at him. "It's a long story, but if you have the time, I'd be happy to tell you."

Matthew looked at the others; after all, it was supposed to be an evening for them to catch up with one another, but they all nodded. It was time to know the entire story at last. "I would appreciate that, Michael and we definitely have the time. Please, pull up a chair."

Obeying rapidly, Michael looked at Matthew. "When did you last see Bert?"

"Right before the charge. He was putting his bayonet on his gun."

Nodding, Michael thought for a moment. "Bert said that one he'd gotten his bayonet secured, he checked his boot laces to make sure they were still snugly tied...

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><p><em>(France, July 1,1916)<em>

Bert Alfred's mouth was dry as he stood up from checking his bootlaces. It was his little ritual, something he always did before the call came to venture out into No Man's Land.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, his eyes lingered for a moment on the picture that he had drawn of Mary Poppins. Maybe it was rather impertinent of him, but Bert couldn't lie when the others had asked him. The simple truth of the matter was that if he could marry anyone, it would be her,

The others in his unit had been teasing him nonstop, calling her "Bert's Angel" no matter how much he'd told them to stop, that it just wasn't like that. Still, he couldn't help but think that the name was rather apt. Hopefully she'd never find out about this because -he- wasn't about to tell her!

His grip tightened on his rifle and he swallowed. It had been six years since he'd seen her, two since he'd been drafted and often he wondered if she ever spared a thought for him at all, or if he was just a memory of an easier place and time like a comfortable old blanket tucked away in a closet.

Quickly reaching a hand up to check that his helmet was securely in place, Bert waited anxiously along with all of the other men for the order that would send them into action.

Finally it came, shattering the silence. "CHARGE!"

Immediately, Bert cradled his rifle in one arm and scampered up the ladder to No Man's Land with depressingly practiced ease. As soon as he reached the top, the shelling started.

Ducking his head low, he followed the man in front of him toward the enemy line. Several times he had to lay flat as the Germans began to fire but he was making some good headway toward the line when he heard a whistling noise and his entire world exploded.

A punishing force sent him flying backward, his ears ringing and bright spots appearing in his eyes. He rolled to a stop, unable to stand up or even call out to anyone around him for help. He wanted to get to safety, but everything was spinning like an out of control carousel and his right leg felt like it was being burned off of him.

He was dimly aware of hands gripping him under his arms and someone shouting something near his ear, but he could only make out the odd word here and there. His eyes were streaming and he still couldn't see anything beyond blurs of color, mostly the drab green of army uniforms whizzing by him.

More hands grasped his legs and he was weightless again. Bright lights flashed every now and then, but he had no idea where he was or where these hands were taking him.

He was laid on something and lifted into what seemed like a cave but he knew that it had to be one of the trucks. Suddenly, he could feel a rumbling underneath him and then he was bumped and jostled for what felt like an eternity.

More voices spoke urgently in his ears and he was better able to make out the words this time. "Hold on" one person told him and "you'll be okay" said another.

Obviously, he'd been wounded. He wasn't sure how bad the injury was, or if once he was healed he'd be going back to the front. All he could do now was ait.

A bright light shone into his eyes and he grimaced, turning his head away. It felt like someone was stabbing his head with dull knives and he just wanted it to stop.

From the corner of his eye, he saw white blobs approaching him and he figured that these must be the doctors. As they gathered around him, one of them moved to stand near his head. All he could see before a large black thing was lowered over his mouth was a pair of blue eyes and dark hair. "Mary..." he whispered before he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

_Just so that people know, I am NOT killing Mary or Bert. They will get together, but it WILL be a rather...interesting road to get there. Please read and review if you are of a mine to. It always gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to find reviews.  
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><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

Matthew and the others winced as they listened to Michael relating Bert Alfred's story. "Sounds like he got too close to a shell." he commented with a sigh as the young man paused to take a drink. "They hurt your ears like fury when they went off and just about blinded you."

"Scared me like the devil the first time I heard it." Tom said fervently as James and Davy nodded their agreement while Michael prepared to continue.

"I can't even imagine it." Michael said honestly, shaking his head as the others were lost for a moment in their own memories of yesteryear. "And for poor Bert, that was only the beginning. While he was under so they could perform surgery, he had many dreams..."

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><p><em>(France, July 1916)<em>

He could hear carousel music in the distance. A yellow road stretched out in front of him as far as he could see and the sun shone brightly above him. He looked down at himself and realized that he was wearing a colorfully striped jacket with white flannel pants, a crisp white shirt and he plucked the hat from his head to find that it was a straw boater's hat.

Smiling to himself , Bert hurried along the path and stopped when he rounded the corner. There she was; Mary Poppins.

She looked just the way he'd remembered her from six years ago, not so much as one dark hair out of place on her practically perfect head.

Bowing low, he extended his hand to her and she curtsied gracefully before placing her delicately gloved hand in his. He pulled her into a slow waltz, dancing to the song the carousel song that was playing and she smiled back at him like she always did when they were having a jolly holiday together.

As they danced, he was aware of a pain starting to grow in his right leg but he fought it, not wanting to let go of Mary Poppins for even a second. Surely he was strong enough to power through it. Eventually it receeded and he continued to twirl gracefully until the sun seemed to be going down.

Everything started to grow dark and he could feel Mary's hand fading right out of his. "Don't go!" he begged, but to no avail. She was gone, leaving him alone in the darkness.

He called her name desperately over and over, looking this way and that but she didn't come back to him and he fell to his knees.

He was entirely by himself; no one could save him from this. Not his unit, not his fellow sweepers and not his old friend Mary Poppins.

Taking a deep breath and struggling to his feet, Bert blundered forward with his arm outstretched in front of him so he could feel for trees or anything else to hold on to.

As he kept bravely walking on, a whistling noise came from above him and he froze. He knew exactly what that sound was, and what it meant.

Heart in his mouth, Bert ran as fast as he could, knowing instinctively that he wasn't going to be nearly quick enough to escape.

A bright light seared his eyes and he was flung up into the air like before but instead of hitting the ground, he continued to fall into the never ending darkness, arms and legs pinwheeling as he tried to slow his descent. He only fell faster and faster until he was slammed into the earth, head reeling as he tried to marshall his scrambled wits about him and get up.

While he lay there, stunned and shivering violently, the darkness began to face slowly and as it did, he could hear someone saying him name softly but it sounded like the voice was coming from very far away and it wasn't one that he recognized.

Bert tried to answer, but his mouth was dry and felt like someone had stuffed it full of soot. He was ale to make a small noise though and the voice called for a doctor excitedly.

He came to the realization that his eyes were closed and tried to open them. It took about three tries before he was able to manage it and he was a little startled to find three staring at him.

One of them was an older man who was wearing a white coat that was stained with things Bert really didn't want to think about and the other two were women, obviously nurses. "Good afternoon, Sergeant Alfred." the doctor said softly as he came and stood closer to Bert's bedside. As this distance, he could see that the physician had light brown hair. "My name is Dr. Richards and I will be looking after you during your recovery."

Nodding muzzily, Bert tried to sit up but the two nurses immediately pushed him back down with surprising strengeth. Obviously he wasn't the first to try it. "You've had a nasty shock, deary." the older woman said firmly. "You just lie here for a bit yet."

He wanted to protest that he was really okay but his mouth was so dry he couldn't get the words out. They seemed to be stuck in his parched throat like a large cobblestone.

"Do you want anything?" the doctor asked pleasantly, looking at Bert.

"Water." he finally croaked and the younger nurse gently held his head up and placed a cup to his lips. He drank slowly, not wanting to spill on himself.

"Thank you miss." he told her, his voice a little stronger and she smiled at him.

"You're welcome, Sergeant and if you need anything else, Nurse Waters and I will be around. I am Nurse Sims."

He gave a small nod of his head and the trio was off to see the occupant of the bed next to him. His eyelids were heavy so he closed them and slid back into a fitful sleep.

A scream woke Bert suddenly some time later. He clutched the sheets in his hands, not understanding what on earth was going on. Several nurses rushed by and he heard one of them muttering something about "massive burns" and he shuddered. They'd all heard the horror stories about fellows who'd gotten burned and he was very grateful it wasn't him.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he wished that he had his sketch book with him so he could at least keep busy and not think about the poor bloke with the burns.

He closed his eyes and tried to go through his memories, deciding what the first thing he'd draw when he laid hands on paper would be. Maybe a view of London from the rooftops. That would be a good one.

His body more relaxed, he was able to return to sleep and dreamed of being up on top of the those roofs at night time, right when the sun was going down and watching the sky turn shades of purple, orange and gold. His sweep mates were there and they all stepped in time, celebrating this moment that they had to be merry at the end of a hard work day.

Two days passed and he was more alert each day. The day before, he'd gotten some paper from Nurse Waters along with a couple pencils and began his rooftop drawing of London.

Some of the more mobile patients as well as the nurses and a couple of doctors stopped every so often to see what he was doing. They were all impressed and Bert felt a sense of pride in his work.

However, there was only one thing that was keeping him from being completely content with his present circumstance and that was the fact that no one would allow him to stand up! He felt perfectly fine and had tried to get Dr. Richards to allow him to get up and start moving but he was always told "Wait another day" and he was sick of it.

Sighing, he vowed that he would try again today as he reached for his paper and the freshest pencil he had.

"You're looking well, Sergeant Alfred." Dr. Richards said cheerfully as he approached the bed,

Thinking quickly and deciding to take matters into his own hands, Bert quickly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Some nurses gasped and the doctor started forward. He wondered what the matter was as he went to stand up, but something was horribly wrong and he lurched forward.

The physician was there to catch him, an expression of sadness on his normally calm face and Bert was about to demand an explination immediately...until he looked down.

He had an extremely comfy but ugly brown houseslipper on his left foot and on his right foot nothing...because it wasn't there.

Panic bubbled up inside of him and his breathing became labored as he began to wheeze. Where was his right foot? How was he supposed to step in time? Or go up on the railing? Or even climb up inside a chimney to sweep it without his right foot to brace against the walls of the stack?

"Sergeant Alfred, you may want to sit down." Dr. Richards said kindly as he helped Bert sit down on the edge of the bed.

Sinking down slowly, it was all he could do to focus on the other man's words as he began to speak. "We did everything we could to try and spare you your leg, but the shell had shattered your leg bone badly and gangrene set in rather quickly. In order to even give you a chance to live, we had to amputate your right leg below the knee. I...I am so sorry this had to happen.

Awkwardly patting his shoulder, Dr. Richards moved away, leaving Bert to his increasingly jumbled thoughts. What was he going to _do_ when he got home? Jobs for a one-legged man weren't exactly plentiful.

_You can still be a screever,_ the calm part of his brain reminded him. _You still have both of your hands._

This was true, and Bert clung to that knowledge. He had both of his hands and eyes, and all ten of his fingers. He was just short a few toes.

Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes. His dancing days were over. He'd never be able to dance with the penguins again or step in time with the other sweeps. And perhaps worst of all, he was never going to waltz with Mary Poppins again.

Digging the heels of his hands into his wet eyes, Bert tried to think of the fact that he was still alive when so many other blokes wouldn't be going home at all. In a strange way, he was fortunate and he had ro remember that. Crying over what couldn't be restored to him wasn't going to do any good.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay folks. I wanted the impact to be big and apparantly it was! I looked up statistics from World War I and as much as I wanted Bert to come back all fine and dandy, he wouldn't let me do it. So I picked something I actually have some experience with. My Grandpa Glenn was in a motorcycle accident as a young man and had his right leg amputated below the right knee. Sound familiar? So in a way, he inspired this. Believe me, I did NOT want Bert inhaling hydrochloric acid like some poor guys did. I felt bad about dropping that bomb on you, so here's the next part!_

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><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"He lost his leg?" Matthew repeated, feeling almost sick to his stomach. It was so hard for him to picture the healthy man of his memories without such an important limb.

Michael nodded and paused to have another drink. "Yes. He has no right leg below his right knee and even now, years later, he still gets some ghost pains from it even though his foot isn't there anymore."

The four military men sat in stone silence for a moment. What could they even say? Here they were, completely whole. It almost didn't seem fair somehow. "Blimey." Davey finally commented. "S'hard to imagine someone you used to know without a working leg. How in the blazes did he cope with it?"

Michael grimaced and bit his lip. "It was very hard for him in the beginning." he admitted. "At home, he'd been a chimney sweep as well as just about everything else and above all else, he loved to sing...and dance. You should've seen him back when I was a kid with all the other sweeps.

"I wish I could have." Matthew said softly as he took another sip of his ale, but it didn't taste as good to him as it once had. It had a sour flavor to it now.

"Me too." James nodded as he looked at Michael. "What did he end up doing?"

Chuckling, Michael cleared his throat. "He let himsef wallow for a few says until a visitor managed to pul him out of it."

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><p><em>(France, July 1916)<em>

Bert lay on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. He had been informed that he would be going back home in a couple of weeks, but what lay ahead of him? He used to go through his life drifiting from day to day but with his leg, he realized with stinging clarity that he couldn't simply exist like that any more. He needed a plan.

As he lay and considered his options with ever increasing despair, a strange creaking noise caught his attention and he forced himself to sit up slowly, curious to know what it was.

Nurse Sims had wheeled someone over in front of his bed and Bert was startled to see that the young man sitting in the wheelchair with a cheerful smile on his face was missing both of his arms!

Trying to be polite and not stare, Bert quickly focused his attention on his visitor's face, feeling human for the first time since he'd been told about his leg.

"Didn't wake you, did I?" he asked, a note of anxiety creeping into his tone and Bert quickly shook his head.

"No no, not at all. I was just 'aving a look up at the loverly ceiling we got 'ere. I'm Bert Alfred."

The younger man grinned and nodded his head. "Nice to meetcha, Bert! I'm Robert Graves but everybody calls me Robby. I'd offer to shake but all I have are ten toes and I haven't bathed yet, so you wouldn't want to be shakin' those!"

A startled chuckle escaped Bert before he could think about it and he quickly clapped a scandalized hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. Being in the army had given him a bit more of a cynical sense of humor but he saw that Robby was laughing too.

"No need to take on so, mate. Might was well try to find the humor in it since I'll be like this for the rest of my life."

Robby's tone was matter of fact and held no hint of self-pity or even anger and Bert was suddenly and deeply ashamed of himself. Sure, he'd lost a foot but if Robby could look on the bright side in his condition. then so could he.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Bert answered in the breeziest tone he could manage. "You can't shake 'ands and I can't dance."

It was a little strained, but Robby could tell that he was trying and offered him an appreciative grin. "Doesn't matter. Girls love an injured bloke."

Snorting, Bert shook his head. "No girls for me, mate. I'm gonna 'ave enough bloody trouble trying to figure out what I'm gonna do when I get 'ome. Can't still be a chimney sweep, see."

"You'll find something, Bert. The one thing I've learned in this war is that when you're down and you least expect it, something good comes your way."

He was privately dubious of this, but was too polite to contradict. Still, Robby gave him a knowing look, as though he knew what Bert was thinking. "Just takes a spot of time is all. You up for a stroll in the lovely dirt garden, as me and the boys have dubbed it?"

Before he could protest or agree, Nurse Sims had brought over a tall, padded cruth. Eyeing it hesitantly, Bert gingerly took hold of it and slipped it under his right arms, standing up shakily but doing it on his own, a triumphant expression on his face.

"Atta boy, Alfred!" another soldier cheered from the bed directly across from him and Bert shrugged sheepishly, chuckling as he took a couple of wobbly steps. It was hard, but his dancer's balance was helping him to compensate rather well.

"I'll think I'll take you up on that little garden party, Robby if the offer still stands."

Robby nodded, grinning widely at the sight of Bert standing. "It certainly does, Bertie Boy. C'mon."

Rolling his eyes and groaning at the nickname, Bert clomped along behind the wheelchair. With every step, it was getting easier to manage the crutch and by the time they reached the doorway, he was "walking" rather well, even if he said so himself.

The sun was out and as he emerged from inside the makeshift hospital that he had been stuck in for days, he breathed in the clear air deeply. It was nice to feel warmth on his face again.

"S'not a bad day." Robby commented thoughtfully as he looked upward. "Seems like Mister Sun's decided to grace our olive lives with a bit of yellow for a change."

"Cor, listen to you, Mr. Poet." Bert teased gently as he lowered himself onto a board supported by two sturdy piles of rubble. His left leg was already tired from having to support more weight than it was used to.

Robby shrugged, but looked pleased. "I did a fair bit of writing in school. My teachers all reckoned I was pretty good."

Bert thought for a moment to himself. "You know, you could still do it. All you'd have to do is tell it to somebody, and they could write it down for you. Maybe your teachers were right. You don't lose anything at this rate by trying, do ya?"

"Can you write?" Robby asked, eyeing him with a speculative look that made Bert want to squirm like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

"A bit." he said tentatively as Nurse Sims got the chair situated and took a seat herself on one of the benches. "I'm no great shakes at it, but I reckon if you're patient with me, I could at least get you started."

"That's all I'd need!" Robby nodded. "I'll use my considerable charms to beg a pencil and paper from the lovely nurses and you can be my scribe."

Nurse Sims snorted as Bert chuckled. "I already have a pencil and paper." he explained. "I draw a fair bit."

"Oh, so _you're_ the bloke that draws! I've heard the others talking about how good you are. Have you done anything else in the last few days?"

Bert shook his head, his gaze far away. "No. I haven't drawn anything since I found out about this." he replied, tapping his hand on his right thigh.

Robby nodded understandingly. "I hear you mate, believe me. I wasn't exactly overflowing with ideas after I woke up and found myself unable to shake hands. Takes some time to let it settle into your mind and become your new normal."

He exhaled slowly. Robby was right; this was his new reality and he might as well embrace whatever this life was going to bring his way. "Yeah, this is just gonna take a bit of gettin' used to."

"What did you do before you ended up here?" Robby asked curiously as he turned his head, focusing all of his attention on his new friend.

"Mostly I was a chimney sweep." Bert replied, unable to keep a mournful note out of his voice. "I'd do just about anything to make a few honest bob though. When the weather was nice, I was a screever in the park or a kite seller. Even tried my hand as a delivery boy when I first got to London after me Da passed on. Wasn't more'n 15 and had to find some way of supportin' myself."

Robby let out a low whistle. "So you've been on your own for a fair while then. Why did you go to London? Did you have any family there?"

Chuckling wryly, Bert shifted in his makeshift seat. "No. When Da died, I sold almost everything I had to me name and walked as well as begged rides until I got to London. Thought I'd rather make my own way then sit round and wait for someone else to cart me off to a boy's home or decide my fate for me."

He folded his arms over his chest. "And I wouldn't say I'm alone exactly. There's a large group of us sweeps and we're all like brothers. "

"And what about this "Mary" that you mentioned when they first brought you in?" Nurse Sims asked, eyebrow arched.

Robby smirked and Bert felt his cheek getting hot. He had a strong feeling that a certain handless man was going to have a rather good time with this new information.

"Who's Mary? And don't spare any details." Robby said, winking cheekily.

"Oh yes Sergeant Alfred, do tell." Nurse Sims added, looking every bit as smug as Robby.

Sighing, Bert took a few seconds to decide what exactly he was going to say about Mary Poppins. Obviously, there were certain things he couldn't tell them. He carried her story and didn't want to betray her trust, even miles away.

"Mary's been my best friend since I was 18." he answered honestly. "She's a nanny and a smashing good one at that. But she never stays in one place too long. In 'igh demand she is."

"What's she like?" Robby prompted, head tilted to once side.

A wisful smile pulled at the corners of Bert's mouth. "She's a bit of a firecracker. Got a lot of spirit. But she's probably one of the kindest souls that I know. If you need something, she'll be there with only a couple of questions asked. And hearing her sing is like listening to a nightengale."

Nurse Sims and Robby exchanged loaded looks as he went on, almost forgetting that they were there. "She's a loyal friend and also likes to 'ave a good time like anyone else. You spend the day with 'er, and it's like going on a grand adventure. You never know as how things'll shape up, but it's sure to be marvelous."

He chuckled as he remembered an incident from when they were young involving one of her precious hats. "She's tidy too. Never likes to 'ave even on 'air on 'er practically perfect 'ead out of place."

"And you love her." Nurse Sims observed quietly.

Bert snapped back to reality, gaping at her. "She...she's my friend..."

"Doesn't mean you don't love her, mate." Robby chimed in. "And don't even bother denying it. It's bloody obvious when you talk about her how much you care."

"Have you ever told her how you feel?" the nurse asked kindly.

"No, she's made it pretty clear that she doesn't want anything to tie 'er down. Very committed to 'er duty that one. So I've 'eld my peace."

"Bertie Boy," Robby began gently, 'You can't hold that sort of thing in forever. When you get home, find that woman and show her what she's missing by not staying and letter herself share your life!"

"What could a bloke like me offer 'er?" Bert asked, frustration and doubt in his voice. "I don't even know if I'll be able to look after myself, let alone 'ave enough for 'er as well!"

"Then give yourself time to get established." Nurse Sims suggested sensibly. "Save up your money, _then _track her down like Corporal Graves here told you. At least, even if she says no, you tried."

Robby nodded. "Yes, that's the thing to do! Save up for a few months, prove that you're an industrious chap, then o find her, get on your left knee and propose!"

Groaning in embarrassment, Bert buried his face in his hands as Robby started to come up with grand proposal speeches, each one more flowery than the last.

"Let him be, Corporal." the nurse scolded and Bert gave her a grateful look. "Besides, it's time for lunch. In we go."

Nodding, Bert got back up and followed them in as Robby continued to make up speeches. At least he had _one _goal when he got to London...


	4. Chapter 4

_So, someone told me they thought that Nurse Sims was Mary in disguise. She isn't, but she will come into the story again, as well as in the sequal. And yes, there will be a sequal. Bert-in-my-brain decided that this needed to happen. So it is. He's so demanding.  
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><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"It sounds like he was lucky to have Robby." James commented, a small smile on his face. Matthew nodded his agreement. At least Bert had found a friend to stick by him, much like he had found James when they were still in school before getting called up.

"Oh yes. Bert's always said that it was Robby who convinced him to start living his life again." Michael said. "They were quite a pair, even after they were on their way home. Robby's family lived near London so he and Bert rode most of the way together. And they got a good start on the first book."

"Book?" Davey asked quizzically.

Michael nodded, grinning. "Yes. With Bert's help, Robby had a decent enough start that he was able to take his ideas and with some help from his sister, he sent a finished draft over to a publisher in America. I assume you've heard of the Royce and Bertie mystery series?"

Matthew couldn't help but laugh. "Yes! The lord who solves mysteries with the help of his chimney sweep friend Bertie! I've read them all."

"Well, now you know how they came about." Michael said, sitting back in his chair. "Bert didn't have such an easy time deciding what he wanted to do with himself now that he was home...

* * *

><p><em>(London, August, 1916)<em>

It was a warm day and Bert wiped the sweat from his brow. Not many people were out in the park today, but he was still going to draw. He only had a few pennies left to his name and had been reduced to only eating one meal a day to even have enough to last the week. Still, he was getting by and that was what counted.

But he hated the pitying looks people gave him when they got close enough to see that his right foot was missing. His lips tightened as he tried to turn his attention back to the scene in front of him. It was the carousel and as he drew it, he couldn't help but feel a sense of sad nostalgia. If Mary Poppins ever came back this way again, he could at least ride the horse. Maybe save the fox again.

He smiled a little as he finished his drawing and leaned back, stretching a little as some children came around the corner and crowded closer for a better look. If nothing else, the little ones were enjoying what he did.

As he watched them, he found himself wondering if he was ever going to have a family of his own. Maybe a son with a big smile and a little girl with bright blue eyes like her mother's...

Shaking his head, he tried to squash these daydreams. That was all they would ever amount to, and he had more important things to worry about.

"Bert? Izzat you?" a voice called excitedly and he looked up to find young Gavin Brown, the younger brother of his best friend Jerry coming toward him.

Grinning, he got his crutch under his arm and used his left hand to pop himself up so he could stand. "Gav! Nice to see you, mate! Where's Jerry?"

Gavin's smile faded and Bert knew immediately what was coming next. "He didn't come back, did he?" Bert asked softly.

"No, he didn't." Gavin whispered, eyes on the ground. "It's just me and mum now, and Jer didn't 'ave much of a chance to show me how to sweep."

"Well, I might be able to help ya there, Gavin." Bert replied kindly. "I can tell ya what to do, and show you a few things but me sweeping days are over, as ya might've noticed."

Gavin's eyes widened as he fully took in the fact that Bert's right leg was missing. "Blimey, Bert! I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "Don't take on so, Gav. Is what it is. But I'd be glad to help ya in any way I can."

Gavin nodded, looking relieved. "Come for dinner one night. Mum would love to see you again."

"I'll do that. And find me here tomorrow morning and we'll get started, yeah?"

The young man's brow furrowed. "Don't we need a chimney to work on?"

Bert smiled. "I think I know a family who'll let us practice on theirs. I knew the kids when they were little and I see them around once in a while. It's 17 Cherry Tree Lane, the Banks family."

"All right then, I'll be here bright and early." Gavin said, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"See ya then, Gav."

"See ya, Bert."

As he watched Gavin walk away, Bert let the smile fade from his face. Eight of the chimney sweeps, including himself had gone away to war and only three of them had come back. He'd known Jerome Brown even longer than Mary Poppins and now he was gone.

Sighing, he picked up his chalks and moved around the park. He was able to make a few bob, enough for two meals on Friday, provided he accepted Gavin's offer to eat with him and Mrs. Brown. But it was the least he could do to make sure they were okay. He would do it for Jerry.

Night fell eventually and Bert moved to his particular bench, old army coat wrapped around himself as he used his old bag for a pillow. It wasn't any way to live, but he was still saving some like Robby and Nurse Sims had told him.

Closing his eyes, Bert could only hope that tomorrow would be better than today.


	5. Chapter 5

_Mary will be making her appearance in the next chapter, just so you all know. Unfortunately, to set up her arrival, I had to have Michael do a bit of an info dump in order to move thins along. I'm not as happy with this chapter as I usually am, but I think the ones after it will be better._

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"He had a hard time of it." Matthew sighed. Somehow, his nicely ordered little life seemed...cheap in a way. He hadn't had to fight for it or scrape the bottom of the barrel like Bert Alfred did.

"He did, but his fortunes changed pretty quickly." Michael confided after a sip of his drink. "My sister Jane and I ran into him at the park one day and insisted he come home with us for tea. He did and since it was a bank holiday, my father was home. Bert asked him what to do with the money he had saved up and Father suggested he put it in the bank. Bert rather liked this plan, since he'd already had to fight off some unsavory people when the word got out he had a few bob on him."

"Was he okay?" James asked in alarm. Some of the street gangs in London were reputed to be pretty fierce.

Michael nodded, smiling. "He was. He smacked one of them with his crutch and they left him alone after that. Also, while he was at tea, Father noticed how good he was at doing sums in his head. One of the bank tellers was leaving to get married, so Father offered Bert the job, alone with room and board at our house."

"Did he accept it?" Matthew queried. He wondered how someone like Bert, who was accustomed to being his own boss would take the suggestion of a desk job.

"He didn't want to take it at first, but once he'd thought it over a bit, he reckoned that it was the only thing he could do that would allow him to save faster. He also decided to take the money that Gavin had been giving him and put it in a separate account so he could pay off the deed on their home. He figured it was what Jerry would have wanted for his family."

"This bloke sort of makes me feel ashamed of myself." Davey said honestly and the others nodded in agreement.

"So what happened then?" Matthew asked anxiously. He wanted to know what happened, but he also wanted to know when or if this mysterious Mary came back into things!

"Bert wrote a letter to Robby, letting him know that he had a permanent address now and he got a visit from him." Michael chuckled at the memory. "He gave Bert a quarter of all his earnings from the book and it's sequal since it was Bert that had helped him to write it down in the first place. The sequal had just been published in America and there was interest back here, since it was written by a British author. He'd really come all the way to London to make Bert an offer though...

* * *

><p><em>(London, September, 1916)<em>

Bert sat at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers nervously against his leg and gaping at his friend. Robby Graves just sat there, his sister Eugenia at his side, beaming happily.

"You...you want me to what?" he asked finally. He couldn't even _begin_ to wrap his head around what Robby had just asked of him.

Smiling, Robby looked him square in the eye. "Look mate, I've seen your drawings. The British publisher thinks that some illustrations would really add something to the book and you're the man I want to do it."

"Robby, all I've ever done is just be a screever in the park!" Bert protested. He shifted in his seat, still not used to the dress pants and vest that he wore to work at the bank. "What you're talking about is a professional job and I'm just not sure I can do it!"

"I thought of that." Robby said matter of factly. "Which is why I'm going to enroll you in drawing classes at Oxford."

Bert's eyes were fit to bug out of his head. "You're going to WHAT?"

Robby leaned forward. "Bertie Boy, you're not happy at that bank. Anyone with eyes can see that. You need your art to be happy, just like I need my words. You're the only one I want to draw these things because you make things come alive somehow when you draw them. It's just two classes; Art Appreciation, which I thought might give you some different styles and ideas to look at, as well as Introduction to Drawing. That's all you'd need. I...might have shown that sketch you made of No Man's Land to the art instructor."

Bert groaned. "Oh thanks! Just what I want, some teacher pickin' me drawing apart!"

"Bertie Boy, he said it was great! You lacked a few technical things he said, but he was really impressed and wants to teach you." Robby said earnestly.

Resting his head on his hand, Bert tried to think. This would be pretty much everything he wanted, and with the money that Robby had just insisted he take, he wouldn't have to work at the bank anymore. And maybe...maybe this could be the start of something. Perhaps he could also take other jobs, maybe for something cheerful like children's books.

Biting his lip, he decided to do what he would have once done and throw caution to the wind, even though his mind wondered if this would prove to be a wise decision. "All right, Robby. Sign me up for bloody class."

Grinning widely, Robby nodded his head. "You just wait and see, Bertie Boy. This is going to be just what you needed."

Smiling reluctantly, Bert hoped that indeed Robby would be right about that.


	6. Chapter 6

_Huzzah! Mary is finally appearing and this section will actually be mostly from her perspective with a bit from Bert inbetween. It's going to go back and forth between her and Bert from here on out. This chapter was kinda hard to write and you'll see why. Might want to have a hanky necessary. That's all I'm gonna say on that!_

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"So did he like the classes?" James asked as Michael once again paused to give his voice a bit of a break. Matthew was amused to see that his friend was just as caught up in the story as he was.

"He did." Michael laughed. "So much that he even ended up taking oil painting the next term. Said he'd never tried it before and wanted to see if he could do it. In fact, he was actually painting my portrait when Mary Poppins finally popped in again."

Matthew leaned forward in his chair. This was it. This was the part of the story that he'd really been waiting for. Glancing down at the drawing that was still sitting on the table, he found himself hoping that she would understand and give poor Bert Alfred the chance he deserved.

* * *

><p><em>(London, February 10th, 1917)<em>

The wind was rather cold that day, but Mary Poppins was always prepared to travel at a moment's notice. When one was practically perfect, it wouldn't do to be caught off guard.

She had a wool coat smartly buttoned up to the top as well as a scarf wound around her neck. She was tidy, but it was obvious that these clothes were not new. Still, not very many people had new things with the general economy still recovering from the war.

As her feet touched down, she frowned slightly. She had been pleased to see London coming into her view, but here she was in the park, right by number 17 Cherry Tree Lane! She _never _came back to the same place twice and wondered if perhaps she had been blown off course.

Still, this felt like where she needed to be. Folding up her umbrella, she strode briskly forward toward the front door. While she did, she heard a man's voice say laughingly, "Come on Michael, 'old still for me! How am I supposed to paint ya when you keep squirmin' on me?"

A deeper voice than she remembered from six years ago responded with just as much teasing. "Sorry Bert. It's not _my_ fault you paint slow."

"Coo, look at the cheek on you my lad!" Bert sassed back and the exchange brought a reluctant smile to her face. It would be wonderful to see her old friend again, as well as see how much Michael and Jane had grown. Jane would be 17 now, and Michael 14.

Raising a hand, she rang the doorbell and heard footsteps come racing down the hall to answer it. _That will be Jane_ she thought to herself. _She never could resist a chance to know what was going on before anyone else did._

The heavy door was flung back and before Mary could even have a chance to take a deep breath, a girlish voice shrieked, "Mary Poppins!" and she found herself being hugged so tightly, it was a wonder she could breathe.

"Really Jane!" she said, trying to sound stern but she couldn't keep back a small smile as Jane beamed up at her.

"I'm sorry, Mary Poppins, but it's been ever so long since we've seen you!" the young lady replied as she ushered Mary inside. It was almost unnerving to see just how much Jane resembled her mother.

"Mary Poppins!" a young man exclaimed with glee as he came into the hallway. Michael had gotten so tall that she almost wouldn't have known him if she'd passed him on the street. His smile was as warm as always as he came over and hugged her.

"Hello Michael." she said kindly as she untangle herself from them. Tilting her head toward the living room, she tried to keep her voice light as she asked the question that was eating at her. "Was that Bert I heard when I was on the front stoop?"

Their reactions surprised her. They looked at one another, their smiles fading and there was an almost silent communication going on between them. "Yes." Michael said tentatively, biting his lower lip. "Bert's here but he's...different."

Different? What on earth was _that_ supposed to mean? She furrowed her brow, trying to see if she could glean any additional information from their behavior or facial expressions. Jane seemed almost...sad, somehow and resigned. It was such an adult expression that Mary felt a flicker of fear run through her.

"Bring her in, you lot." Bert called and again, she was struck by how un-Bert his tone sounded. It was reserved, careful, as though he was steeling himself for something unpleasant. Was he not happy to see her? Had he given up on their friendship?

Nodding, Michael offered her his arm like a proper little gentleman and Mary accepted it. Slowly, reluctantly, he guided her into the living room where she got her first of many shocks.

Bert had turned himself to the left in order to see the doorway. His normally bright blue eyes were darker, more guarded. The unabashed joy that had once been in his face had been replaced by something that she couldn't put a name to. His smile was pleasant, but not the beaming expression that had usually greeted her upon her return to London.

There was an easel set up in front of him and a sheet under where he was sitting as well as the wooden structure. On it rested a canvas and she could see that he was right in the middle of painting Michael. He'd always been a good artist, but she wondered when he had taken up painting. And for that matter, it looked like it was oil paints and she knew those were rather pricy. But if he was doing it for the Banks family, she knew that they would want the very best used.

He wasn't sooty, and she was shocked to find herself reflecting that he looked more handsome than she'd ever seen him. His hair was shorter and she couldn't help but notice the dark brown trousers he wore with a matching vest over a very white shirt. His sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows, presumably so as not to get paint on them, revealing more muscular forearms than _she_ could remember!

In fact, he just looked more fit than she recalled. As a sweep, he was used to only eating two meals a day and working very hard, so he was always a bit on the stringy side. Now though, he'd obviously had a few square meals and she couldn't exactly complain about the physical results she saw in front of her.

Reminding herself that he was her friend and therefore not to be oogled and gaped at, she focued her attention on his face. "Hello, Bert." she said softly.

She was relieved to see his smile widen a bit, but his eyes were still careful. "Hello, Mary. It's been a fair bit since you were last here."

His speech had changed a bit as well. The Cockney accent was still there, but it had been tempered. His grammer was a bit better and she was curious as to what had happened to him in six years to produce this much of a change.

"Yes, it has." she agreed. "What have you been up to?"

Here, Bert exchanged an unfathomable look with Michael and Jane before his gaze swung back to her and something in her knew that he was about to make some sort of confession.

"Help me up, Michael." he said quietly.

Help him up? Leaning forward, Mary's sharp eyes caught sight of a padded crutch beside Bert's chair. Before she could ask what had befallen him, what the crutch was for, Michael had darted to Bert's side and helped him up.

Turning, with Michael at Bert's right side, Mary could finally see all of him and a hand quickly covered her mouth as she tried not to gasp or scream or react in any way that was going to embarrass him.

His right foot was gone. Completely and utterly gone. She could feel his intent gaze burning into the top of her head as she just stared, but what else could she do? _Nothing_ could have prepared her for this.

Taking a moment to close her eyes, she swung her gaze back up to Bert, whose face was calculatedly placid. She was willing to bet he wasn't so blase on the inside though.

"What happened?" she asked and she was glad to hear that there was no tremble to her voice.

Bert's stiff stance relaxed a bit and he motioned for Michael to turn the chair around for him. The young man did so before going out of the room, Jane with him. Mary was grateful for their unspoken senativity. This discussion was going to be hard enough.

"I got drafted into the army about two years ago." Bert began matter of factly as he got himself settled. "Made it up to sergeant before July 1st, 1916. That was the day of the Battle of the Somme."

It was strange to hear a French word coming out of his mouth, but she made herself focus on his every word, not wanting to miss anything.

"We got the call to go up and over into No Man's Land and while we did, the Germans started to shell us." He tapped his right leg with a casual hand, but from how tightly his left hand was clenched, Mary could see what his carefree attitude was costing him to maintain.

"I was making good progress toward their line, but a shell came down just feet away from me. It threw me backwards and left spots in my eyes. Some medics hauled me away and got me to a hospital. They put me under and tried to save my leg, but the bone was pretty much shattered and it started to get gangrene so Dr. Richards did the only thing 'e 'ad left to do and amputated my leg. Everything below the knee is gone."

She nodded, still keeping a tight rein on herself, as she imagined he must be doing. Why had this happened? And to _Bert_ of all people! He was one of the kindest people she'd ever known. What had he ever done to deserve something like this?

"I'm sorry Bert." It was trite and unhelpful...but it was all she could say. There was no magic she possessed that could fix this for him.

"Don't take on so, Mary." he said kindly. "There's far more chaps who are worse off than I am. Take my mate Robby for instance. He lost both of 'is arms."

A man with no arms? How did he even survive? And how was Bert surviving? She wanted to ask, but she say his face lighten when he mentioned this Robby.

"Tell me about him." she invited and a genuine grin settled onto his face. She was disgusted with herself to find that her knees were a little wobbly.

"Robby...is Robby. There's no other way to describe 'im. 'e's a right force of nature, that one, and the reason I'm doin' all of this." he said, waving his hand toward the painting. "e's a writer and wanted me to do some pictures for his book. I told 'im honest that I needed some help, so 'e signed me up for art classes at Oxford."

Bert? At _Oxford_? He certainly was intelligent, but that wouldn't have been the first place Mary would have sought him out!

"I wasn't 'appy with 'im a first, but 'e was right about the bank not being the place for me."

Now she knew the world had truly turned on its head. Bert had worked at the bank? However, this would explain why he was here at the Banks home, looking for all the world like another member of the family.

"Did your classes go well?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"See for yourself." Bert told her, handing her a book with a slightly sheepish grin.

Opening it, she saw the title page. "What The Sweep Saw: A Royce and Bertie Mystery" by Robert Graves. There was a drawing of a chimney sweep peering over the edge of a roof as a cart was being wheeled away. A hand was poking out from under the cover and Mary shivered a little. She didn't read many mystery novels but she had to admire Bert's eye for detail. And this drawing was better than anything she'd ever seen him produce in the park. Directly under the drawing, the bold type read, "Illustrations by Herbert Alfred"."

She felt...proud. Very proud, in fact. Bert was obvously still able to do something that he loved doing and she was glad of that. Flipping through the book, she paused at each of his drawings, silently marvelling at them. The classes had indeed helped.

"They're wonderful, Bert." she told him, handing the book back. "And I mean that. "

He ducked his head a bit and shrugged but before he could say anything, Cook and the other members of the household came in to say hello to her and once Mrs. Banks had arrived, she lost track of him entirely. Her old employers had insisted she stay with them and put her in the old nursery where she didn't see Bert again until Jane and Michael fetched her at one in the morning.

* * *

><p>He woke up and knew it was going to be another rough night. Everything had been going so well but now the ghost pain was back with a vengeance.<p>

No doctor could tell him why this happened, just that it was a common side effect of amputation. _Fat lot of comfort that is_ he grumbled in his head before stuffing his head into his pillow, just doing his best to keep quiet.

It _hurt_, like nothing he'd ever known before and he reckoned it just was't fair that not only did he have to lose his leg, but he had this business to look forward to for the rest of his life.

A soft whimper escaped his lips, but he was just glad it wasn't one of the ones where he woke up screaming bloody murder. Everyone had been nice about it, though. Especially Mrs. Banks and Jane, who'd taken turns holding his hand and talking to him so it would get his mind off of it.

Rolling over, Bert squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe in and out slowly. A sudden stab made him yelp and footsteps immediately trotted into his room. "Another ghost pain, Bert?" Michael asked softly.

"Yes." he hissed. "Bad one this time."

"I'll get Jane." the young man promised and was out the door before he could reply.

Sucking in a quick breath, Bert placed his pillow over his face and let himself yell a bit, the sound muffled by all of the down. He writhed and twisted but nothing would make the pain go away.

Tossing the pillow aside, he looked upward silently, as though begging for deliverance from heaven. He clenched his jaw tightly, willing himself to be quiet and not wake anyone.

Footsteps finally came back down the hall and he turned his head, sweat already forming on his brow but there was an extra set. Frowning, he wondered who it could be until Michael and Jane came through the door...with Mary Poppins behind them

Before he could say anything, a lightening hot pain seized him and he cried out, hands curled so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Dimly, he was aware of Michael putting a pillow under his head and Jane pulling up three chairs so they could sit with him but the thing he focused on most was the feel of Mary's small hand resting on his balled up right fist.

* * *

><p>Mary had been sleeping peacefully when Jane and Michael had roused her from her bed. She was used to getting up sometimes and wondered what on earth was the matter but as soon as the word "Bert" fell from Jane's lips, she was up and pulling a robe around herself.<p>

As she pulled slippers on, Michael explained what a ghost pain was and she found her heart aching for Bert anew. It seemed like he could not get a break anywhere.

Hurrying down the hall with the two teens in front of her, she was completely unprepared for the sight in front of her as they came to the doorway. Bert lay there, his entire body rigid with pain. He turned his head toward them, but before he could speak, a shudder ran through his tall frame and he cried out wordlessly.

Her heart felt like it had been wrenched from her chest and as Jane and Michael made their familiar preparations, she went to his side and rested her hand on his. She could see the agony etched into every feature of his face and wished that she could take even a little of this burden onto herself.

"We usually talk to him, something to take his mind off of it." Jane whispered.

She couldn't think of anything to talk about, so she sang instead. Gently rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand, she sang the song that had put Jane and Michael out six years before.

As she sang, she could feel his hand relaxing and cast a critical eye over him. The rest of him was following suit and after another couple of times through, Bert was finally back to sleep.

Smoothing the hair back from his damp brow, Mary didn't see the looks Michael and Jane exchanged as she bent down and lightly kissed his forehead. "Sleep well, Bert." she whispered before creeping quietly back to her own bed. The tears didn't start until she was laying down again.


	7. Chapter 7

_So, I had a very good question from a reviewer who was inquiring about why Bert didn't have a peg leg or a prosthesis and I was planning to addess the topic later, but figured that now would be as good a time as any. I did some research into the history of the prosthetic leg (as well as asking Grandpa Glenn) and most of the options would NOT have been comfortable. Also, right when he came back, Bert wouldn't have been able to afford one and since the crutch is what he's accostumed to, he's going to try a peg leg and decide that he's good with the crutch. Also, according to my grandfather, they cost less to replace and if he didn't have insurance that paid for his prosthetic legs, he'd be using a crutch himself! He and my grandmother jokingly call them "the golden legs"._

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Did he ever have a wooden leg?" Davy asked curiously. "My Uncle Thomas knew a bloke who had wooden leg."

Michael nodded. "He did, but he absolutely hated it. The leather straps they used to hold the leg on rubbed his skin raw and he decided that he would rather use a crutch and hasn't gone near one since."

"If it was that painful, I can't say that I would blame him." Matthew nodded.

"He also had some growths on the end of the bone called bone spurs." Michael added. "So every time he would put pressure on the limb, those growths would dig into the skin and he ended up using the leg to help Cook tenderize the meat for dinner! Mary was scandalized of course."

Everyone chuckled, trying to imagine this. "What happened next?" Matthew asked, tilting his head to one side as he listened.

Michael rested his elbows on the table, grinning broadly. "Well, my sister and I were out in the park talking with Mary when we heard a commotion coming from the house. Robby was visiting Bert to bring him his new manuscript so he could get started on the illustrations for it and the next thing we know, we hear a whole lot of commotion coming from the house!"

* * *

><p><em>(London, February 17th, 1917)<em>

The sun was shining and since it was such a lovely day, Mary had accepted the invitation issued to her by Michael and Jane to join them for a walk in the park. Bert had been keeping to himself quite a bit since the incident during the night and she knew that he was embarrassed by allowing her to see him in such a state.

She could also tell that he wasn't doing as well as he wanted it to appear. He rarely went outdoors and when he did, it was for a specific task, like attending his classes or going to check in with Gavin. He never spoke to any of his old sweep friends as far as she could tell and especially at night, even if she had been up reading late, his light would still be on and she had to wonder when, or even _if _he was sleeping.

Jane and Michael were concerned about him as well, but at least Bert would smile and laugh with them, even if it was only a little. And Robby was coming for a visit today. Bert always seemed to do a bit better after seeing his old friend.

It had taken her a moment to get over the shock of not seeing any arms, but Robby Graves was quite charming and she found herself talking to him as though she had known him for years.

As they strolled, they paused to speak to several people that she had known from her various jobs in London and it was then that they could hear shouting coming from the direction of number 17, Cherry Tree Lane.

"Is that Cook?" Jane asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Mary listened closely and nodded. "It is. We had better go see what on earth is going on."

Striding off briskly with Jane and Michael following close behind, she was rather alarmed when she could hear a male voice yelling. It sounded like Bert! And she had _never_ heard him yell before!

Entering the house in alarm, she heard Robby and Bert both..._laughing_, fit to be tied! Cautiously, they went into the kitchen to find Bert using the wooden leg he had been trying out the last few days to beat the meat for dinner so it would be more tender!

"What are you doing?" she demanded. She was both appalled and trying not to chuckle at the same time.

"We're tenderizing the meat and since this is the biggest stick we've got 'ere in the 'ouse, we thought we ought to put it to good use." Bert said, grinning widely. Robby was sitting in a chair, doubled over with laughter. Cook was just shaking her head, but her mirth was apparent.

"Bert, you said you were going to try it." Mary admonished, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow.

"Yes, I tried it and I 'ated the bloody thing." he replied cheerfully.

"Such language!" she scolded and his pale face flushed a bit.

"Sorry, Mary. The army didn't do me any favors there I'm afraid."

"The man speaks the truth!" Robby added. "Some of the mouths on those blokes would make a Liverpool seaman blush."

"Well you are _not_ a Liverpool seaman, Herbert Alfred." she said sternly.

Normally, he would have been quite abashed, but this was a different Bert than she was used to. He merely raised an eyebrow of his own and said with a touch of sarcasm, "Are you goin' to nanny me too, Mary?"

She stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. If there was one thing that Mary Poppins wasn't accustomed to, it was being stuck speechless. "I am merely reminding you of the conduct for a proper gentleman." she said with great dignity.

The effect was ruined by the low chuckle she heard from behind her as she swept out of the kitchen with Michael and Jane in tow.

* * *

><p>"She's got some spunk that one." Robby said, smirking at Bert as Mary Poppins could be heard walking up the stairs.<p>

"You can say that again." Cook muttered and Bert set the wooden leg down.

"Well that's one job done." he said cheerfully. The wooden leg was simply more hassle than it was worth and had left his stump achy and rubbed raw from the leather straps that had to hold it on. The crutch was what he was used to. He knew how to use it, it didn't let him down and it didn't put any pressure on the bottom of his stump.

"What about the other?" Robby asked meaningfully. Cook turned a curious gaze to Bert and he couldn't help flushing again.

"Bertie Boy here wants to marry Ms. Poppins." Robby informed her with a broad grin.

"Robby! Shut yer gob!" Bert hissed. The _last_ thing he wanted was for Mary to hear about this! One never knew when she would be lurking around. She seemed to have eyes in the back of her head and ears that could hear for miles around.

"Oh do you really, Mr. Alfred?" Cook asked.

He had a glib answer prepared but instead, he just hung his head a little and nodded.

"Give it time, lad, and make sure you don't speak like a Liverpool seaman." she teased, but Bert could hear the hint of warning in her tone. And she was right. Mary wasn't a woman to trifle with and if he really wanted to prove that he loved her, then he had to get himself right in the head again.

But how to do that? His nightmares came and went, not to mention the ghost pains. Could he _really_ ask her to live with that?

Robby's quiet voice broke into his musings. "What're you thinking there, mate?"

"That I'm not good for 'er, Robby." Bert said softly. "She's practically perfect in every way. 'ow can I ask a woman like that to love a man who isn't even whole any more?"

"Bertie Boy, don't take on about yourself like that." Robby protested, but Bert shook his head.

"It's no good, mate. I am what I am. And that's all there is to it."

Sticking his crutch under his arm, Bert stumped out of the house slowly. He needed to do some thinking.

As he rounded the corner, he saw Gavin walking down the street with his brooms, whistling cheerfully. "Oy, Gav!" he called.

The young man stopped and turned, a grin lighting his face. "Bert! How've you been?" he said cheerfully as he made his way over to where Bert was standing.

"Been doing well enough, Gavin! 'ow's the sweep business going?" he asked,

"Going well, going well." Gavin shuffled his feet a little bit before adding hesitantly, "The other sweeps have been asking after you. They'd...they'd all love to see you sometime."

Bert swallowed. These invitations had been issued before but he'd always refused them. What was the point of listening to them singing songs about the good times? Those days were gone and he had to left them go. But they were still his friends. Perhaps sucking it up and just doing it once would be a bit of good for every one.

"I'll think about it." he replied and Gavin's tense stance eased a little. Before he could ask any more questions or even see how Mrs. Brown was faring, Jane and Michael came down the street and the look on Gavin's face was priceless.

"Bert... who's that?" the young man asked, eyes as wide as saucers.

"That, my dear Gav, is Ms, Jane Banks." Bert replied. He felt amused...but also very old at the same time. He remembered the first time he'd been captivated by a young woman and that had been years ago...by Mary Poppins.

"I'm going to meet her some day." Gavin said determinedly, straightening his cap.

"I wish you luck." Bert chuckled as the young sweep looked after her once more before heading off to his next job. Hopefully Gavin would be luckier in love than he was.

* * *

><p>Mary was down the street, returning from some errands when she saw Bert speaking with Gavin Brown. She had run into one of the sweeps and learned from them of Jerry's death.<p>

She knew that Bert and Jerry had been like brothers, and he had to be taking the loss hard. Still, here he was, looking after Gavin as she knew Jerry would have. It seemed that Bert's heart was still kind, even though he had acquired some rougher edges from the army.

But could she really blame him? She had no idea of the things he might have seen and she was perfectly aware of this fact. He and Robby joked about things that were hardly funny but perhaps it made it easier to face them with a smile instead of treating them as the grave matters that they were.

She also took in the way that Gavin stared after Jane and reflected that Jane could do a lot worse than an honest, hardworking young man. She would do what she could to further Gavin's chances there.

Having settled this to her satisfaction, she aproached Bert with an unusual feeling of...nervousness. He heard her footsteps and turned to face her, crutch tucked under his arm as usual.

"'ullo, Mary." he said affably. "Just going to take a stroll. 'ave a bit of thinking to do."

From what she could see, he was already doing it but she chose not to comment on it. It appeared that something was on his mine and she found that it almost hurt a little to think that he wasn't confiding in her as he once did. He was keeping things to himself, and keeping her out.

Nodding politely, she offered a civil smile. "I hope your walk is nice." she said primly.

"I 'ope so do." he murmured, obviously distracted. "See you at dinner, Mary."

His erect figured stumped down the street, nodding to all of the people he knew and as she stood there, the thought struck her that perhaps the reason she was here in London was to help her old friend Bert.


	8. Chapter 8

_In honor of me making Darling Pretty cry her mascara off with chapter six, I have decided to institute a "mascara warning" at the beginning of each chapter. This has a mascara rating of two, since nothing too tragic or heart wrenching is going to happen. And this also makes my writing debut of Jealous!Mary, which was kinda fun to do. Hope you all enjoy it, and tell your friends._

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Sounds like he had a lot to mull over." James commented kindly as Michael again stopped to give his voice a rest. It really _was_ a long story, but Matthew and everyone else were completely caught up in it, wanting to know how things turned out.

"Bert was anxious about asking Mary to share what he viewed as a very imperfect life." the young man said thoughtfully. "She was always very well put together, nothing out of place and always very professional. Bert felt so lost most of the time and like he was struggling to find himself again."

"We all went through that after we got home." Matthew said softly. "Some of us are still looking."

James eyed him across the table and he cursed his runaway tongue. This evening was about finding out what had happened to Bert Alfred. Not what was currently going on with him.

Michael tactfully changed the subject, sensing the tension that had come into the room. "And while he was out in the park, he ran into an old friend of his."

* * *

><p><em>(London, February 17th, 1917)<em>

As he walked through the park and out toward the Thames, Bert let his thoughts go whithersoever they would. He was finally in a financial position to offer Mary a real life, not one of scraping for every little schilling or crown that he could get together from drawing on the sidewalks or cleaning out chimneys.

But there were other things to consider. He was...different now and he knew that. Perhaps she wouldn't even _want_ to marry him since he wasn't the Bert she would remember.

He wasn't such a joker, such a carefree person anymore. He enjoyed a laugh, yes, but he'd grown more sober and thoughtful. He considered his words before he spoke instead of just breezing along like he used to. And he wasn't sure of just who he was any more. What defined him? What made him _Bert_? Was it his dancing? His art? Singing? Something else he hadn't even discovered yet?

And Mary was...Mary. Practically perfect in every way. It was almost like he was some poor lowly little mortal who got to look upon the face of a goddess for a little while and was never going to be the same again, like in that book of Robby's daft myths from Rome and Greece.

And speaking of Robby, he was probably wondering where on earth he was. Turning, he shifted his weight to begin the journey home when something he thought he'd left behind caught his ear.

"Sergeant Alfred? Is that you?" a delighted voice called and a smile was already starting to spread across his face as he turned to find Nurse Sims hurrying toward him with a young man of about Michael's age in tow with her. If he remembered right from all of the stories she had told him and Robby while they were recovering, this would be her brother Adam.

"Well 'ullo, Nurse Sims!" he greeted. "Is this Adam?"

She nodded as the boy looked at him agog. "You know my name?"

"Of course I do!" Bert replied, extending his hand. "Your sister told me all about you when I was in the hospital. Name's Bert Alfred."

Adam shook his hand as Nurse Sims studied him and Bert could see the concern on her face. Nothing ever slipped past her and he silently prayed that she wasn't going to ask him too many questions. He didn't have many answers at the moment.

"How have you been?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

He sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out. "Okay. Some days are easier than others."

"I understand that." she chuckled softly and Bert realized that apart from other soldiers, the nurses and doctors were the only other ones who would have any idea of the things that happened during war.

"Robby's 'ere visiting me." he supplied and a lovely grin emerged on her delicate features.

"Yes, I saw the book in the store last week! He's quite a gifted writer, and your drawings only made it better." she replied. "Adam has been reading it lately and can't put it down."

The boy flushed while scuffing his show on the ground and Bert was struck by an idea. "'ow about you lot come to tea with me? I'm sure Robby would love to see you again and Adam could meet him!"

Adam's mouth fell open and before Bert could help himself, he said with mock sterness, "Close your mouth Adam. We are not a codfish."

The young man closed his mouth obediently and Nurse Sims laughed. "I'll have to remember that!"

"Learned it from Mary." Bert said, unaware of the way he said her name.

"Ah ha, have you seen her recently?" she asked as she and Adam fell into step with him.

"She's staying at the same 'ouse I am and...I'm just not good enough for 'er." he sighed.

Sensing that this was an adult conversation, Adam walked ahead a bit as the former nurse pegged Bert with a rather fierce glare.

"Bert Alfred, you are a good, decent man. Any woman in the world would be fortunate to have you for a husband. If she doesn't find you worthy, than she does _not_ deserve you. So hush!"

"Yes ma'am." he teased, but he was rather warmed by the emphatic way she stuck up for him. As they walked in silence for a moment, a thought occurred to him and he began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked curiously.

"After knowing you for 'ow many months in France, I don't know even know your first name!" he said, looking sideways at her.

She saw the humor in it too and offered her hand. "Olivia Sims." she said.

Bert squeezed her hand gently in his own. "Nice to meet you properly, Olivia."

* * *

><p>Mary was in the living room talking with Robby about some of his plans for his next book when she heard Bert's voice out on the porch. She also heard that...of a woman.<p>

Something started to burn white hot inside of her and she wondered if perhaps she was becoming ill. Normally she felt calm, but her current state was such that she wouldn't be surprised if a wild animal lept out of her.

The front door opened, admitting Bert along with a lovely young woman and a boy who was obviously her brother. The woman and Bert obviously knew each other well, for they were laughing and joking about something.

Robby immediately stood up. "Nurse Sims!" he said excitedly.

Nurse? That meant Bert obviously knew her from the war. She watched as the young woman immediately came over to Robby and hugged him. "Hello to you too, Corporal Graves." she teased. "Behaving yourself?"

"As much as I ever do." he shot back and she laughed. "How did you find me?"

She gestured toward Bert. "I saw Sergeant Alfred there down by the Thames and he graciously offered to bring my younger brother and I here so that Adam could meet you."

Mary saw that the young man's eyes were like saucers and Robby smiled kindly, motioning for him to come over with a jerk of his head. "So you're the infamous Adam of the Walnut Disaster of 1912." he said with a wink.

Adam rounded on his sister, arms folded over his chest. "Livy! You promised you'd _never_ tell!"

Bert was snickering behind his hand and Mary found herself feeling...left out. She was the only one in the room who didn't know the walnut story. And she found that she didn't like it very much. Bert had always been her closest friend but it appeared that had changed.

Picking up her book, she swept out of the room. Let them have their entertainment. She would find somewhere quiet to read.

* * *

><p>Bert winced as he watched her go. He could tell that something was eating her and so could Olivia. As Robby and Adam argued, she pegged Bert with a look. "Go after her." she said softly.<p>

"She's angry." Bert sighed.

"You'd be angry too if everyone was talking about a story you knew nothing about and no one offered to explain it to you." she retorted and Bert realized that Mary was probably feeling like an unwanted wheel.

Nodding, he got his crutch situated and hurried out into the hallway in time to see Mary sliding up the staircase bannister. She must be upset indeed to do such a thing when there were three people in the house who had no idea of her magical abilities.

Swallowing nervously, Bert began to make his way up the stairs as quickly as he could. There might be a reckoning waiting for him once he got there, but he wanted the chance to try and make amends as best he could.

A creaking from the left told him that she was in the nursery. He tapped lightly on the door before poking his head in.

She was mad all right. Her face was set like stone and he found himself almost wanting to run away back downstairs when she raised her head slowly and said in a voice like a cold blast from the North, "Yes?"

"Just wanted to do a little explaining." he said jovially as he crept further into the nursery.

"I see." she said, arching an eyebrow. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. At _all._

"Olivia was one of the two nurses who looked after me when I woke up after my amputation surgery." he said softly, his gaze far away as he remembered back to that time. "She kept watch over Robby and I until we were allowed to be moved back to England. She's a dear friend...like a younger sister."

He glanced over at Mary to find that her face had softened a little bit. "She sounds nice." she said and he had to fight to hide a small smile. Her tone was a bit grudging.

"She is. She was a good nurse and she's a good person too. I hope that her John sees that." Mary didn't need to know that Olivia had stopped seeing John last week and he hoped that Olivia would back him up on this small bit of subterfuge.

"So what exactly is this walnut story about?" Mary asked, shutting her book slowly. Bert settled himself into a chair, knowing he had her attention now.

"Well, her brother Adam was home for the winter holidays and it had snowed so much outside that he was very bored. The cook had accidently gotten too many walnuts, so Adam decided that it was 'igh time that something was done with all of these walnuts..."


	9. Chapter 9

_Yes, the walnuts were a reference to the Dick Van Dyke show episode "It May **Look** Like A Walnut". I couldn't resist the chance to throw that little reference in and I've been rathered surprised that none of the fans of the musical have called me out for what I named Jerry's brother! Low mascara warning for this chapter as well, but I will warn you that there's at least one or two more tear jerkers ahead._

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Did Adam _really _do that with the walnuts?" Matthew asked incredulously as the others laughed. Michael nodded, laughing himself and unable to speak for a moment.

"Their father was understandably upset and according to what Bert told me later, walnuts are _still_ not allowed in the Sims household to this day!"

"Can't say as I blame him!" Davey snorted. "That would have been a right mess to clean up!"

"My sister and I always reminded our parents about that story after Bert told it to us. That way, if we got in trouble, we could always tell them at least it wasn't walnuts!"

"Did he and Mary get their wires sorted out?" Matthew said as Michael took another drink.

"They did...in a fashion. It still took a little longer than everybody wanted. Robby and Olivia were getting tired of listening to Bert go on about how there was no way that Mary would be able to care about him. They took matters into their own hands and set Bert up so that he would tell Mary how he felt...without knowing that he was doing so."

* * *

><p><em>(London, April 3rd, 1917)<em>

Bert trudged toward the park reluctantly. Robby and Olivia were waiting for him and he already knew what they were going to say. They had been trying to get him to admit to Mary how he felt, but couldn't they see it was no good? He'd screamed the house down last month with a particularly violent nightmare and she left the room as soon as she could. There was no way she would ever feel the same way about him so why even bother?

They were already there and seated, along with Adam, on a blanket under a large tree. Nodding to them and trying to muster some cheer, Bert sank down slowly onto the blanket with them. Adam quickly headed off to a more distant spot with a book and he looked at his two friends.

Robby looked almost..._too_ cheerful and Olivia's face was carefully blank. He didn't like the look of this and narrowed his eyes. He smelled something rotten in the state of Denmark, so to speak.

"I've come to let you two say your piece." he sighed, brushing his left hand over the grass and letting it tickle his palm. He had to get outside more. Perhaps once he was done with this set of drawings.

"Bertie Boy, you haven't even tried!" Robby replied, his normal grin replaced with a look of consternation. "It's one thing to let go when you've done everything you can but to give up before you've even given it a fair shake?"

"A fair shake is _exactly_ why I'm giving it up, Robby." Bert replied tersely. Usually he tried to be more polite, but they had been over this time and time again. It was just time to put the matter to bed and let it lie. "I'm not going to ask her to devote the rest of her life to a cripple. Even if I _do_ love her more than my own life. It wouldn't be fair to her. She needs someone who can give her everything. And I can't."

Bert's voice broke a little on the last word and Olivia rested a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. He just wanted to go home, maybe wallow a little bit.

"Bert, maybe you should focus on what you _can_ give her." Olivia insisted gently.

"And what would that be?" he said bitterly. "A man who doesn't even know who he _is_ anymore? No, Olivia, my mind is made up. I'm not going to burden her with that."

A voice from behind him made him stop cold. "How _dare_ you, Herbert Alfred!"

Turning quickly, he saw Mary Poppins, umbrella in hand and flowered hat on her head. Her blue eyes were spitting fire and he swung his gaze to Olivia and Robby.

"You knew she was going to be here." he said flatly. They nodded, cowering a bit under the force of his glare.

"I TRUSTED you two!" he cried, popping himself up to his good foot, crutch quickly tucked under his arm. Ignoring Robby and Olivia's pleas, he stumped away as quickly as he could go. Some friends _they_ had turned out to be.

* * *

><p>Mary watched him go, but only for a second. She was so furious with him she wanted to scream, but she also knew that she couldn't let him leave that way. Robby and Olivia had been trying to help them both and now that she knew his true feelings, they would talk. Even if she had to haul him away kicking and screaming.<p>

What on earth had possessed him to assume that he knew how _she_ felt without even talking to her about it first? They had shared everything with each other once upon a time and she had believed that he would come around and talk to her as he once had.

Something Robby had told her during one of their many coversations came to mind as she bustled after him. _He has no faith in himself anymore_, Robby had said. _He thinks that everybody is looking at his leg instead of him._

Surprised at how quickly he was able to move, she doubled her steps. He squared his shoulders, gaze focused straight ahead instead of turning to look at her when she drew up beside him. "Let me be, Mary." he growled.

"I most certainly will _not_, Herbert James Alfred Jr. You may as well stop trying to run away and face me like a man." she snapped.

He stopped, swinging an equally furious gaze to her. "What is there to talk about? I'm a cripple." He spat the word, jaw clenched tightly.

"There is plenty to talk about and you will not refer to yourself that way in my presence again or I shall hit you over the head with my umbrella!" she retorted. "Your leg is gone. So what? There is still more to you than that. Robby sees it. Olivia sees it. _I_ see it."

His face suddenly contorted with an inner pain and he turned his face away. She wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily though. She walked around directly in front of him, planting herself in his path. "Look at me, Bert." she commanded, her tone a bit softer. Now that she had his attention, perhaps she could reach him a little more easily.

"No." he replied quietly, eyes still averted. The misery in his voice was more than she could stand and she rested a gentle hand on his arm.

"Please?" she asked. Finally, he allowed himself to look her in the eye. "You used to talk to me, Bert. Confide in me. But you barely tell me anything these days. I realize that this is embarrassing for you. You don't like having to lean on people or ask for help. But...I care for you. And I want to help you."

"I don't need a nurse, Mary." Bert said, his face still twisted with pain. "I want someone to share my life with, a wife to come home to in the evenings. And you're the only one that I want, that I _have_ wanted. For years I've waited for even just a hint from you that you loved me in return. Then you went away. Four years went by and then I was drafted. I thought I would never see you again. And then you came back. But as soon as I saw you, I knew that I was too different now."

Her brows pulled into a frown. Couldn't he _see_ that she didn't care? "Herbert Alfred, for an intelligent man, you talk quite a bit of pure and utter nonsense."

Now he was the puzzled one. "What do you mean?"

A half sob, half chuckle escaped her lips. "Why do you think I was always so glad to return to London? It was because this is where _you_ are, you daft man. But I couldn't promise you anything, not when I had to go away so often."

"Are you still going to go away?" he asked. The fear in his voice tugged at her heart and she heaved a heavy sigh.

"I don't know." she answered honestly, her grip tightening on her umbrella. "This is the longest I have ever stayed anywhere without a whisper from the wind."

"Then I guess there's just one last thing to done." he sighed. "And I apologize in advance." he said before he suddenly pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that had her seeing stars behind her eyes.

She was overwhelmed with feelings. Nothing, none of her etiquette classes or training had prepared her for the sudden and intense emotions that swept over her. She stiffened immediately, not knowing what to do or even _how_ to react. No man had ever kissed her before this and she was caught off guard.

Bert pulled back, regret in his eyes. "Mary...I...I'm sorry." he whispered brokenly. He stumped away, leaving her standing on the sidewalk with a dazed look on her face. She didn't even see which direction he went. All she could think about was how _un_prepared she was for this.

And for the first time, she wondered if perhaps Bert might not be right.


	10. Chapter 10

_So this chapter will provide a bit of a depature. There will be two new POV's introduced, those of Gavin, and Jane. I couldn't think of any other way to do it, so here we go. I think there's only going to be about 3 or 4 more chapters after this, and then on to the sequal! When I started this, it was only going to be one story. Best laid plans of mice and men, I suppose._

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Oh no..." Matthew said, shaking his head. Just when it seemed that things were finally going to turn out for Mary and Bert, something else happened to them.

Michael nodded. "By the time she came back to herself, Bert was gone. She hurried back to the park to find Robby and Olivia, thinking that perhaps he might have passed that way, but he didn't. All of them, including Adam, returned to our home but Bert had left, taking all of his belongings with him."

"He did?" James asked, leaning in even more. This story had so many twists and turns in it, it could be a radio serial!

"He did. Everything except for a scarf which Jane was mending for him." Michael sighed. "She asked around but no one could remember seeing him and she was beside herself. Ellen, our maid, kept insisting that he had jumped in the river until Mother finally told her to be silent. Robby suggested that perhaps he had gone to a hotel so he and Olivia and Adam went to go make inquires, but they came back at about nine with no sightings of him. It was decided that they would try again in the morning, but my sister wasn't having any of it."

"She sounds like a strong girl." Davey chuckled.

"You could say that." Michael laughed. "She rushed out into the night without so much as a coat or gloves to keep her hands warm. I tried to go after her, but lost track so all we could do was wait for her to come home and also hope that Bert would come back too. Mary told the sweeps what was happening and word was passed along to look for both her and Bert."

* * *

><p><em>(London, April 3rd, 1917)<em>

Jane Banks strode briskly down the street toward the Thames. She couldn't just sit at home when no one knew where Bert was! He had become a sort of older brother to her and Michael over these last few months and she had to do everything she could to make sure he was found, or at least in a warm place for the night.

She became chilled rather quickly and wished that she had thought to grab her coat from the chair in her bedroom, but finding Bert had taken over all of her thoughts.

Shivering slightly, she rounded a corner to find a group of men clustered around a small fire in a barrell. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she skirted around them and kept heading toward the river. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up though, and she hurried as footsteps started to follow after her.

She cursed her stupidity in not allowing Michael to catch up to her as she tried to find an area where she would have room to double back and hopefully lose whoever it was that was following her.

But the footsteps were joined by others and fear stabbed through her as she realized that she was being pushed toward a certain area. They had done this before, and she had fallen right into their trap.

Gazing around frantically, she found a small piece of wood leaning against a wall and hefted it into her hand. It would be better than nothing if it came down to it. But she knew she wasn't strong enough to fight off more than one person and more footsteps joined the others that she heard.

She closed her eyes for a moment, praying that it would be over quickly.

"Well 'ullo ullo pretty girl." a voice jeered from behind her and she glanced over her shoulder. A man was leering at her and her jaw tightened. He was definitely what her father would call "an unsavory type".

She didn't answer and other voices joined in from the shadows, jeering and calling her all manner of insolent names. Jane swallowed and gripped her stick tightly.

"Don't be unfriendly." the man said, sauntering forward as she reached the wall of an old warehouse. She was surrounded and they all knew it.

"Stay back." Jane said warningly.

The men laughed and their leader paused, assessing her. "Cor,you got a bit of spirit. I like that in a woman."

"Then go find someone dumb enough to have you." she snapped, knowing as soon as the words left her mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.

"You've got a fighter there boss." someone called and he smirked wickedly.

As he approached her, Jane knew that this might be one of the last things she saw but before she could do anything, a dark figure swung down from the rooftop and knocked the man over the head with a broom.

Straightening, he held the broom at a threatening angle and the other men paused, clearly not wanting to attack someone who had dispatched the other man so easily.

"Leave her alone." the sweep ordered sternly.

A couple of men came forward though and the sweep turned to Jane. She had seen him before and Michael had teased her about her eyes lingering on him for too long. His brown eyes were usually full of laughter but tonight they were grave. "There's a rope ladder behind me." he said through tightly closed lips. "Get over there _now_."

She immediately obeyed the command in his voice as her rescuer threw several boxes in the way of the men's progress. Pulling herself up desperately, she yelped as she felt a hand grip the rung below her.

"S'just me, Ms. Jane." the sweep said comfortingly. "Up you get so we call pull this up behind us."

Scrambling up, Jane watched as he pulled the rope ladder up, cutting the men off from following them.

"Let's get you home." he said calmly, motioning for her to follow him. As she did, she began to shake as she realized just how close she had come to becoming another sad story in the paper. She tried to get ahold of herself but a small sob escaped her and the sweep stopped immediately.

"You're okay now.' he said softly, putting a comforting arm around her. "No one's going to hurt you."

It was rather improper of her, but this strange, handsome man was the only one with her and she wound both arms around him, leaning on him as she tried to regain control of her emotions.

He hugged her, humming an old tune that Jane knew she'd heard somewhere before and she closed her eyes. It was strange, but she felt at home with this sweep, whoever he was.

Blushing slightly, she pulled away and he released her. Studying her, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her. "You'll catch your death of cold up here."

Looking at his hands, the sweep pulled off his right glove and handed it to her. Puzzle, she slipped it on as he moved to her left side. Smiling bashfully, he curled his right hand around her left. "This'll keep both our hands warm this way." he explained as he hefted his broom onto his left shoulder.

It was a sweet gesture, one that she appreciated and she squeezed his hand as they began to walk along the rooftops toward home.

A noise from in back of them made them both freeze and they turned to see one of the men almost on the rooftop.

The sweep put his hands on her shoulders. "Ms. Jane, you need to keep going. I'm going to draw them away so they don't find out where you and yours live, all right? Go left at the blue house with the rooster on top and keep heading straight. That'll put you at your house soon enough."

"But..." she protested and he shook his head impatiently.

"There's no time." he hissed as he took off his other glove and placed it on her hand. "Get going. And if you see any other sweeps, tell 'em that Gavin sent you."

So that was his name. Could this be the Gavin that Bert had spoken of so often?

Acting quickly, she kissed his cheek. "Hurry, Gavin." she whispered before darting away into the darkness, hoping that he would be safe.

* * *

><p>Gavin made sure she was out of sight before leaping to another roof. "Oy! Ugly!" he taunted as the man finally rolled onto the eaves. "Got here too late, mate!"<p>

The brute growled and the chase was on. He led them all over the warehouse district, almost getting cornered by a couple but they hadn't expected his swift right hook.

Finally losing them for good, Gavin rubbed his hands over his arms as he hurried toward Cherry Tree Lane. His hands were half frozen, but the place on his cheek where Jane had kissed him was still warm. Or at least it seemed so to him.

As he walked, her found himself humming a cheery tune and wondered at himself. Could all of this be because of _her_? He had often laughed at other blokes who carried on about girls but it seemed that he finally knew what they were talking about.

Hopping over the last ledge, he found a delegation of sweeps waiting there for him. "You'd better go inside." one of them told him. "Young Ms. Banks is awful upset you aren't back yet."

Nodding, Gavin went down and through a window that Mary Poppins had left open for them so they could report to her. Inside the room, he found both her and Jane weeping. Mary was holding one of Bert's scarves and Jane was clutching his jacket. "What's all this about?" he asked kindly?

Jane's head snapped up and before he knew what was happening, she had launched herself at him, nearly rocking him off of his feet. "Gavin! You're all right!" she cried.

Mary seemed to regain herself a bit. "Jane! Really!" she admonished. "You can't go just flinging yourself at a man like that!"

It seemed that she was beyond caring, which was fine with him for the moment. He allowed himself to rest his cheek against the top of her head before stepping back. "She's right, it isn't proper." he sighed. "And I don't want your father to go not liking me before I even have a chance to visit tomorrow."

"You're visiting tomorrow?" Jane asked softly.

He nodded. "Provided your father and mother don't mind me coming by to see how you're getting on. You had quite a scare tonight."

She smiled and Mary did as well before she motioned to the window. "You'd best be on your way, Mr. Brown, and if you see Bert, please tell him that we're worried."

Gavin frowned. "Didn't you check his house?"

Mary stared at him. "His what?" she asked faintly.

"His house. He signed the papers on it this morning. He was going to take everybody round after dinner tonight to go see it."

"He has a house." she repeated and Gavin glanced at Jane, who shrugged. She wasn't able to explain Mary's behavior either.

"Yes, he has a house. A little white house, two stories, with a porch and a backyard with a nice tree in it." Gavin added.

"A house. He has a house." Mary muttered to herself and Gavin shook his head. Taking a piece of paper, he made a little map and wrote down the house number before handing it to Jane.

"Make sure she gets that in the morning." he chuckled before heading over to the window, one leg swung over the sill.

"I will. Take care, Gavin." Jane replied.

"Since you asked so nicely, I will." he grinned before popping himself up onto the roof. All in all, it had been a good night.

* * *

><p>Mary was in a state of shock as she allowed Jane to steer her to her room. Bert had a <em>house<em>? And he hadn't told anyone about this?

Anger bubbled up inside of her as she undressed and sat down on her bed. He had kissed her and bought a house without so much as a word! What was he _thinking_? It would serve him right if she didn't even go looking for him tomorrow. Let him worry like she had most of today!

Closing her eyes, she tossed and turned until she fell into a fitful slumber. As she slept, she dreamed.

_The day was bright and clear with the sun shining overhead. There was a bundle in her arms, but she couldn't make out what it was. Before her, a house was visible and she immediately loved it. It was simply designed but obviously well cared for. Cheerful flowers were scattered over the yard in small beds and a small fence was around the front._

_A man was walking in front of her and she knew it was Bert from the crutch under his arm. As they approached the house, the front door swung open quickly and a little boy of about three years of age came racing out. "Daddy!" he called joyously._

_Crouching down, Bert scooped him up with practiced ease in his left arm before straightening up. As he did, she could see the child's face and something inside her melted away. The boy had dark, straight hair much like her own, but his face was all Bert, even down to the goofy smile and twinkling eyes. She knew in her heart that this little child was their son._

_"Hullo Jerry." Bert said lovingly. "Have you been good for Uncle Gavin and Aunt Jane?"_

_The boy nodded rapidly and Bert chuckled as he walked up toward the house with little Jerry cradled in his arm. As the door swung open, everything faded, leaving her with the certain knowledge that if she did not go and seek Bert out tomorrow, she would forever lose him, as well as their son._

Opening her eyes, tears were flowing but she made no move to stop them. It seemed as though tomorrow was going to be the point on which everything hinged.

Pushing back the covers, she thought back to what she had seen. She and Bert had a son. And his name was Jerry. And apparently things had gone well for Gavin and Jane. So perhaps...perhaps it wasn't so crazy to think that this could work. The wind had sent her dreams before and they had all come true. So she would go to him, even if it was the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life.

There was no point in sleeping so she got out "What The Sweep Saw" and lost herself in the world of Royce and Bertie.


	11. Chapter 11

_Okay people (aka Darling Pretty for the most part), this chapter in my humble opinion will carry a mascara warning of five, which means ALL YOUR CRYS ARE BELONG TO ME. There will be some sad parts, some fuzzy happy parts and...BERT'S PROPOSING. So yeah. No mascara unless it's water proof!_

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><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Did she go after him?" Tom queried as poor Michael took a moment to get another sip of his drink.

The young man nodded as he set the mug down carefully. "Yes. She was still awake when morning came and Jane gave her the map Gavin had drawn for her the night before."

"Sounds like Gavin's a nice man." Matthew observed, looking at Michael to see what his reaction would be.

"Of course he is! Then again, I can't go unsulting my brother in law." he chuckled.

"So he married your sister?" Davey grinned.

"He did, and they've got two children so far." Michael nodded. "But back to Bert and Mary!"

* * *

><p><em>(London, April 4th, 1917)<em>

It was a sunny day, but Mary Poppins almost wouldn't have even been aware of it. All of her thoughts were on the man that she was currently heading toward, a piece of paper with directions held tightly in her gloved fist. According to the wind, this would be the day that decided both her fate and his.

What could she say to him? Obviously, there were things that they needed to talk about and although they had been friends for many years, some things in her past were painful. But if there was to even be a hint of a chance for them, they had to tackle these issues head on even thought she would much rather not speak of her father.

Sighing silently to herself, she was almost all the way up to the house before she really saw it and stopped dead.

It was the house from her dream. The flower beds hadn't been planted, but the outside had been freshly painted and the fence was almost up. It would be a lovely little house when it was finished and she swallowed hard.

Hesitating, she had to remind herself that the wind hadn't given her the dream for nothing. It was time to act on it. Briskly, she rapped on the door and waited. The familiar sound of Bert's clomping gait could be heard coming toward the door and she lifted a hand, nervously patting her hair to make sure it was secure under her hat.

The door swung open and Bert stood there, gaping at her. He obviously hadn't slept much, judging from his red rimmed eyes and disheveled appearance. "Mary?" he asked, as though making sure this wasn't some kind of a dream.

"Hello Bert." she replied calmly. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Of course! Please, come in." he said, stepping back to allow her room to come in. There were a few pictures hanging up in the hall and she gazed at them curiously. One was a drawing of a man and a woman who were obviously Bert's parents. She knew he had lost them some time ago, but knew nothing more beyond that. He never spoke of them.

The sitting room had a small sofa as well as a desk and a couple of chairs. It wasn't fully furnished yet, but she had to admire Bert's eye for picking pieces that complimented each other without matching exactly. It was a quirky style, perfect for him.

"How...how did you find me?" he asked as he motioned for her to have a seat on the sofa while he pulled one of the chairs over to sit by her but at a respectful distance.

She smiled a little. "Gavin. He drew me a map after we searched for you without any avail."

Bert's brow furrowed immediately. "Seached? I left a note so no one would worry! Unless the window got opened and it blew away..."

Mary closed her eyes. She hadn't even thought to look for a note. Still, he was alive and safe. That was what mattered at the moment. "We didn't get the note. And Jane rushed out to go looking for you but stumbled into a group of rather...unsavory men."

Bert half rose from his chair. "Is she all right?"

She nodded, waving a hand carelessly. "She's fine. Gavin found her and got her home."

"And she likes him." Bert said astutely.

"She does. And he likes her too." Mary chuckled.

"He's a good lad. Reminds me a lot of Jerry." Bert replied before an awkward silence fell. Neither one of them was willing to speak first until Mary got tired of it and took charge of the situation.

"Bert...I came because we need to discuss a few things." she began tentatively and she was rather taken aback when he nodded.

"I agree. We do." he said softly. "You need to know a few things about me, and I need to know a few about you. And I have a feeling they're not going to be nice things, but it has to be done."

Nodding, she looked down at her hands, still wrapped around her umbrella. "Why did you leave like that after...after kissing me?"

Bert rested his elbows on his knees, thinking for a long moment. "When you went all stiff like that...I thought that perhaps you didn't _want_ me kissing you. I thought...I thought you might find me...repulsive somehow."

Her heart immediately constricted and she wanted to reassure him that this wasn't the case. How could she _possibly_ find him replusive? He was a handsome man and had only gotten better the longer she knew him.

"Oh Bert, that's not it at all." she sighed and he turned his gaze to her, blue eyes gazing intently into hers.

"Then why?" he asked.

She closed her eyes, taking a moment of her own. "I...I haven't told you much of my childhood." she said softly. "And for good reason. My mother and father had a rather tumultuous relationship and fought with each other often. He would always be sorry after one of their altercations and hug her and kiss her and promise to never hurt her again. But he always did. And over time, I came to believe that hugs and kisses..."

She struggled for a word until Bert finished her thought. "They became cheap. They didn't mean anything."

"Exactly. And I always thought I would never fall in love because of how strongly I did not trust the emotion. I took etiquette classes, learned to control my talents and made sure that sentiment did not direct my thinking. I was logical, I was poised...until a handsome young sweep got my hat out of a tree for me."

Bert smiled at the memory of the day they had met and she went on. "I told myself that you were my dear friend and nothing more. But I was always the happiest when I was in London...and I could see you. Leaving became harder and harder because I could see the sadness you tried to hide and I knew it was because of me. But the wind still called me, and I went."

She took a moment, trying to phrase her words carefully. "Yesterday when you kissed me was the first time I had ever been kissed in my life. I didn't know what to do, Bert." She tried to joke a bit. "I wasn't sure of the proper proceedure for a first kiss."

"And it didn't help that I practically attacked you." he sighed.

"You didn't attack me, you silly man. Just surprised me."

"Well, that explains a bit now." he mused. "And...I suppose it's my turn. I didn't just go because you got all stiff with me."

"I thought as much." she said softly. "I'm listening."

* * *

><p>Bert closed his eyes, his shoulder drooping a bit. "I dashed off so fast yesterday because I was afraid. You see, everybody I have ever truly loved has left me."<p>

Mary's eyes widened and he looked away so he could finish. "My mother died when I was seven. She was sick for a long while before she finally passed and then my Da passed on when I was about 15. Then I came to London and met Jerry."

A sad smile touched his lips. "Then the war came and Jerry left me too."

He finally allowed himself to look up at her. "And then there was you. You left me over and over again and every time you did, another piece of me started to hurt."

Her eyes were tearing up and he felt wretched for saying it, but it was the truth. And he couldn't lie to her. He took a deep breath before beginning his next sentence. "I love you, Mary. But if you leave again, it might bloody well kill me. I...I need you, you see."

She reached out, resting one of her hands on top of his as he continued. "And I'm sorry that you had to see your mum and dad like that. My Da had a slightly different view on kissing, you see."

"Did he?" she asked, tiliting her head to one side.

Bert nodded slowly. "He always told me that you never kissed a lady unless you meant it. And that a kiss was when you couldn't tell her how much you loved her with words. Sometimes, you had to show her. And that was what I wanted to do yesterday. I just wanted to show you that I loved you. But I'm sorry that I scared you."

"I'm sorry too, Bert." Mary said softly. "I'm sorry that you had to grow up without your parents. They sound like wonderful people."

"They were." he said, thinking back to his childhood out in the ccuntry. "I think you would've liked 'em. And they would've liked you too."

She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand and he looked at her again. "So, that's my piece. I love you, but this is a lot to take on and I understand if you have some second thoughts or aren't ready yet. If you need more time to think about all this, I'll wait. I'd wait a thousand years for you, Mary Poppins."

* * *

><p>Mary looked at Bert, unsure of what to say. She <em>did<em> love him, but she wasn't sure that she would be a good wife, given her fears of love and also of letting someone get so close to her.

The longer she thought about what to say, she could see Bert deflating and wished that she had the words to say something, anything to make him understand. Then, his own words came back to her. Perhaps...perhaps it was just time to _show_ him, rather than tell him.

Mustering every ounce of courage she had, Mary scooted over until she was right next to him. He looked puzzled, but before he could say a word, she had taken his face between her hands and kissed him like he'd kissd her yesterday. A small part of her was panicking, but instead of focusing on that, she tried to think instead that this was a man who loved her, who would never hurt her.

He brought both of his arms around her and when he did, she wanted to laugh and weep all at once because for the first time in her life...she was home. No place, no family that she had ever stayed with had ever felt like the place that she truly belonged. But this was her place. Rather, _Bert_ was her place.

When he finally pulled away, she hadn't realized that her hands had moved. One of them was resting on his broad shoulder and another had tangled itself into his soft hair. "What was that for?" he asked, looking slightly dazed.

She smiled. "A handsome man that I love told me that sometimes, you have to show someone you love them. Words alone aren't enough."

He grinned at her, and it was like looking back through time. _This_ was the Bert she remembered, the man with the beaming smile and sparkling eyes. And it warmed her to know that she was the one who had brought the shine back to his face.

Sitting back, Bert reached into his pocket. "Might as well do this proper." he said softly as he drew out a small box.

Gasping, Mary covered her mouth with one hand, watching as Bert opened the box to reveal a simple diamond ring. It was obviously old, but she loved it. He smiled as he slid down from the sofa onto his left knee and gazed up at her. "Mary Poppins, I love you more than anything in this world. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

There were many things she wanted to say, many things that were racing through her mind but all she could do was nod and whisper, "I would love to marry you, Herbert Alfred."

The light from his smile would have been enough to brighen the skies of London for at least a month as he pushed himself back onto the sofa and reverently slid the ring onto her finger. "It was my grandmum's." he explained. "Da made me promise to give it to the woman I was going to marry."

Mary looked at it, a wide smile of her own on her face. She knew that she probably looked foolish, but in an instance like this, she thought it would be allowed. It wasn't every day a woman was proposed to.

Bert tipped her chin up and she met his kiss gladly before resting her head against his shoulder. As he arm wrapped around her, she couldn't help but think that now, her life truly was perfect.


	12. Chapter 12

_Hurray! The wedding day looms and only a few chapters left! Apparantly someone disregared my mascara warning for the last chapter. I put them up for a reason, people! This is a shortish chapter, but I wanted to give the wedding its proper due, so it will be in the next chapter. And thank you to the people who review, both signed and anonymous. It's a rather nice boost to see that people are enjoying my scribblings!_

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Finally!" James exclaimed as everyone errupted into laughter.

"We all felt that way." Michael chuckled. "Especially Robby and Olivia. We were all eating breakfast when Mary and Bert came back. Mum and Jane were crying and Dad and I shook Bert's hand. Robby was dancing around the table and that was when Gavin came by. Poor Jane was mortified!"

"I bet he didn't mind, though." Tom chuckled.

Michael shook his head. "I think Jane could have had purple spots all over her face and he wouldn't have noticed them. But he was happy for Bert and Mary. Robby was the happiest though when Bert asked him to be the best man. Gavin and I were the groomsmen."

"I bet it was a happy wedding." Matthew said reflectively. "Sounds like they'd both been waiting a while for it."

"It was." Michael nodded. "But Bert and Mary were both as nervous as anything the night before!"

* * *

><p><em>(London, August 10th, 1917)<em>

It was the night before her wedding and Mary Poppins was nervous. More like terrified, if she was perfectly honest with herself (which she usually was). Since her mother had died when she was 14, she had _no_ idea what to expect when she and Bert were alone with each other tomorrow night and who could she ask? Jane was too young and she figured that Ellen would be no help!

Tiring quickly of pacing her bedroom floor, she descended the stairs and ended up in the kitchen. Cook was peeling potatoes and Mary asked hesitantly, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The older woman's sharp eyes flickered up and took in Mary's anxious face. "No, but I'm thinking that you have something on your mind. Do you?"

"I...I..." she stammered, feeling very awkward, almost as awkward as she had when she was 14 and faced her first lessons at the finishing school she had attended. Fortunately, Cook took some pity on her and motioned for her to sit in the chair at the table across from her.

"Go ahead, deary." Cook said comfortingly, picking up another potato.

"I'm glad to be marrying Bert but I...I don't know what to do...after..." she said softly, her hands twisting her apron in her lap.

Cook nodded, a slow smile spreading over her face. "I understand. I don't hold with being forward, but sometimes I think it would be better if us girls knew what was right and proper to expect of our husbands."

"I am inclined to agree with you in this instance." Mary sighed. She hated being kept in the dark and not knowing what was normal or even proper in this situation.

"I can tell you one thing." Cook said slowly as she finished the potato she was working one and picked up another, her knife flashing rapidly over it. "There's some men in this world you wouldn't want for your first time and that's a fact. But your Bert isn't one of them. You'll be safe with him."

Cook was right; she _ would _be safe with Bert. Even when he kissed her, she could feel the desire and respect mingled together. He wouldn't push her farther than she was willing to go.

"Thank you." Mary said as she got to her feet, feeling more settled.

"He'll probably be nervous too." Cook observed. "The men are the ones who are supposed to know what to do, so go easy on him. And it would probably help if you dress for him a bit."

Mary's eyes widened. "Dress for him?" she asked faintly. She hadn't even _considered_ what that could entail!

Shaking her head and setting the knife and potato down, Cook motioned for Mary to follow her. "Come along, dear. I think we can find something that will make his eyes spin!"

As she followed behind, Mary fervently hoped that whatever item of clothing this was, it wouldn't make _her_ eyes spin too!

Opening a large trunk, Cook began rooting around in it before standing up triumphantly. A red nightgown was in her hand and Mary wondered if it was too late to put things back a bit. She wasn't sure if she was ready to go parading around in front of Bert in such a garment!

"Just put this in your bag, deary." Cook ordered sternly. "And wear it tomorrow! You won't regret it."

Gingerly taking the nightgown back to her room so she could put it in the carry case she would be taking with her for their honeymoon, she wondered if asking for Cook's advice had _really_ been a sensible thing to do...

* * *

><p>Bert sat on the edge of the roof, looking up at the sky. Tonight was his last night as a single man, but he felt no regrets. Some men bemoaned the loss of their bachelorhood but he was more than ready for his to be a distant memory.<p>

"Nice night." a soft voice commented from behind him and Bert turned with a smile to find Gavin staning behind him, broom slung over his shoulder.

"It is." he agreed, motioning for Gavin to take the seat beside him. The young man sank down gracefully and also looked up thoughtfully into the sky.

"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?" Gavin asked. Something in his voice made Bert take a moment and consider his answer.

"I am. More than anything." he replied honestly. "Not every day is going to be all sweetness and light, but we love each other and as long as we work through things together, we'll be happy in the end."

Gavin nodded, his eyes far away in his own thoughts until Bert nudged him gently with his shoulder. "What's goin' on in that head of yours, Gav?"

Bowing his head, Gavin said quietly, "Just wishing that Jerry was here for all of this. To see you get married. So I could ask him what to do about Jane..."

"Oh?" Bert asked, looking at Gavin. This sounded pretty serious.

The young man he thought of as his second brother bit his lip for a second. "I...I think I could love her, Bert. But I know that I don't make enough money as a sweep to support a family. And I know her Dad's gonna ask how much I have saved."

A slow smile spread over Bert's face. "Gav, I might be able to help. I took all that money that you gave me from your sweep jobs and put it in the bank, thinking you could pay off the deed on the house with it."

Gavin sat up straight. "I paid it off a month ago..."

"Then I guess you can look for a place of your own, and a ring...after you talk to Mr. Banks." Bert said, grinning. Gavin was stunned and Bert shook his head.

"Best wedding present you could give me is knowing that you're settled, Gav." Bert hinted. Gavin didn't need to be told twice and dashed off to go down and speak to his beloved's father. Bert watched him go, chuckling. He remembered being that young.

Sobering, he looked up at the sky again. Gavin's words had made him remember Jerry. His easy smile, and sly sense of humor as well as his unfailing friendship. He too wished that his old friend was there for the momentous occasion.

But Gavin would be there. And so would Mrs. Brown, almost taking the place of both his and Mary's mother. She had helped Mary choose her dress and would be helping her get ready tomorrow. And speaking of tomorrow, he had to get some rest.

He stood up, getting his crutch under his arm as he headed for the rope ladder Gavin had made. It allowed him to get up on the roof once in a while, much to the delight of his old sweep friends. They had been thrilled to see him and it was nice to see that he still felt like he belonged up here.

Glancing up one last time, he heaved a soft sigh. "Wish you were here, Jer." he whispered before descending the ladder and heading to his room to sleep. But slumber wasn't coming and he tossed and turned. Truth be told, he was nervous about the whole "wedding night" business.

He had never been with a lady before and wasn't exactly sure of what to do! The other sweeps had teased him, but even as a young man he had never been tempted to sample any of the wares that the painted girls on the corner offered. He kept his money for other things. Also...he had wanted his first time with someone to be special, not something that had to be bought.

And when he had met Mary, he knew that there was no one else he wanted to spend his life with except her. But that wasn't reassuring him right now.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he sat up and reached for a book. As he did so, a soft tapping came at his door. Surprised, he got his crutch under his arm and moved quickly over to the door, opening it. Robby stood there, a knowing smile on his face. "Nervous?" he asked.

"Yes." Bert admitted, standing aside so that Robby could enter the room.

"It's normal." his friend said with a smile as he sat down on Bert's bed. "All men go through it."

"I just...I don't know what to do when tomorrow night comes." Bert sighed, resting his head in his hands.

"Ahh, the ol' "husbandly duties" that nobody ever actually bothers to explain to us." Robby nodded. "I can tell you what I heard from some of my married friends, if that would help."

"Anything would help at this point." Bert said ruefully, shutting the book.

"I heard that it's almost...instinct." Robby mused. "A lot of them were nervous but found that if you don't think about it too much and let yourself go, it works out. And she'll be nervous too, so go slow and be gentle."

Bert's face was flushing a rich red, but he nodded, filing the information away. Robby looked like he wanted to laugh, but restrained himself. "And just remember that usually, the first time out isn't the greatest." his friend finished. "So if something gets bumbled, you'll know for next time!"

"Assuming I don't bumble it so badly she won't _want_ a next time." Bert mumbled and Robby tried to keep his laughter down.

"I'm serious, Robby!" he protested. "I've heard of blokes who got kicked out of their own rooms and had to sleep on the couch for their honeymoon!"

"I don't think Mary would do that to you, mate." Robby said, calming down. "She loves you, and you love her. As long as _that's_ what you remember at the end of the day, everything else can be worked on."

He blushed again as Robby wagged his eyebrows like a music hall pantomime villian. "Oh get on with you." he said, giving Robby a light shove.

"Going." his best man said cheerfully as he got to his feet. "See you tomorrow at the altar!"

He chuckled quietly. Trust Robby to make him laugh and also make everything he was worrying about seem like something he could overcome. "See you at the altar, Robby."

Walking over and shutting the door after him, Bert went back to bed and was finally able to fall asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

_Okay, it's the day we've all been waiting for. The wedding day! And don't worry. I will be sparing everyone's virgin eyes and not post too much about the actual "wedding night" itself. I'm not a writer of smut. I leave that in the hands of other people to do if they so choose.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"Oh I remember that talk well." James groaned as the other laughed. "They really _don't_ tell you anything! I think I was just about as terrified as Bert when I got married."

"And now I have something to look forward to!" Davey quipped.

Another round of laughter shook the table as Matthew's thoughts turned inward. He had plenty of people interested in him because of his father's title. And as the eldest son, he stood to inherit everything, which meant that he had to make a good match.

Bgut listening to this story had made him realize that there was more to life. And that he wanted more than to marry someone in order to keep power among the upper class. He wanted someone to love him the way that Mary obviously loved Bert.

"Come back down, Matthew." James teased as he realized that everyone was looking at him.

"Sorry. Got lost in my mind there for a moment." he said lightly.

"We noticed." Tom laughed, clapping him on the back as Michael took a long drink to refresh his parched throat.

Matthew rolled his eyes playfully but appreciated the sentiment.

"So the wedding." James prompted as Michael set his mug down and Matthew had to smile. His friend was just as absorbed in the story as he was.

* * *

><p><em>(London, August 11th, 1917)<em>

The sun was warm and bright but Mary didn't notice it as she bustled around, making sure that everything was ready. She was packed, her dress was hanging on the closet door and all that was left was to eat and clean her teeth.

Bert had left early to prepare at what would be their new home in order to preserve the age old tradition of the groom not seeing his bride on the day of the wedding. However, she would have gladly broken with tradition in order to get a glimpse of his smile.

But she would see him soon enough. Sinking down into a chair in front of the small mirror, she mechanically picked up a brush and began to pull it through her hair. She could hear that Robby and Michael were up and bickering amicably over their bow ties. She hadn't been allowed to see them, which made her a little suspicious. Robby had said brightly that it was a surprise from Bert and she wondered just what her husband to be was up to.

A fond smile touched her lips as she thought back to the wind-swept day they had met. It had been her first job in London, and first job ever really. A sudden gust had torn her hat from her head and blown it down the street. She'd hurried after it. following it into the park before it was tossed up high into a tree.

She'd sighed and glared at the tree before hearing a cheerful voice from behind her. "I'll get it for ya, miss!"

Turning. she found a chimney sweep setting down his tools and tugging on his cap politely, a wide smile on his face as he headed for the tree. She was going to protest, but he was already halfway up before she could even get her mouth open. Rather impressed at his climbing abilities, she waited in silence as he retrieved the hat and swung down gracefully, landing on his feet.

"'ere you go!" he said cheerfully. "One 'at for you, miss."

She accepted the hat from him, unable to keep a smile from her face. "Thank you very much, sir."

"Oh I'm no sir. Name's Bert Alfred, 'erbert if you're me mum."

"Then thank you very much, Bert. I am Mary Poppins."

His smile widened, if such a thing was possible. "Nice to meetcha, Mary Poppins. I'll see you about, yeah?"

"Most likely. Until we meet again, Bert."

And that had been the beginning of everything. She stayed lost in her thoughts until a soft tapping came at the door. "Come in." she invited.

The door opened to reveal Mrs. Brown, Jane and Olivia. They were all dressed and looking excited. The expressions on their faces reminded her that today was her wedding day and she began to feel her own mood rising.

As they moved in and began to get her ready, she hoped that Bert was as happy as she was.

* * *

><p>His bowtie refused to lie still and Bert frowned, heaving a heavy sigh. Gavin would be here soon to collect him and everything else was perfect except for this dratted tie!<p>

"Gonna stare a hole in it, Bert?" a voice asked from behing him.

Turning with a chuckle, he found Gavin leaning against the door, grinning. "It won't lie still, Gav." he complained.

"Let me help." Gavin offered and Bert nodded. The younger sweep came over and had the stubborn tie in line within a few minutes.

"That's not fair, that is." Bert said with a shake of his head as he made sure that he had everything he needed. The rings were with Gavin, who would assist Robby with that part of the ceremony and Mr. Banks had the marriage license in his possession.

"You'll have to tell me one day why we had to have _these_ particular bowties." Gavin commented as Bert pulled his shoe on his left foot.

Looking back into the mirror, Bert grinned as he took in the sight of his grey suit with a brightly striped bowtie in white, blue, and red. "Gav, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Shrugging good naturedly, Gavin waited for him before heading down to the street where a carriage waited for them. Bert got himself in and watched the scenery as they made their way to St. Paul's. It was a beautitul day, perfect for a wedding and he couldn't help but think that fate was finally smiling on him and Mary.

There was little traffic and they made good time, emerging from the carriage at a little before 10. Mary would be arriving soon and Gavin led him into the church to meet with the minister one last time.

His nerves were surprisingly calm as he stood at the front of the church. All he could do now was wait. There was no point in worrying.

Robby and Michael arrived a few minute later, along with Mr. and Mrs. Banks. The license was put in the proper place for signing after the ceremony had taken place and Gavin made sure the rings were clipped to the lapel of Robby's coat.

As he watched the others arriving, he couldn't help the sense of excitement that was growing in him. This was it. In just a few minutes, he would be married.

* * *

><p>Mary sat in the small room reserved for the brides tidying herself one last time. Uncle Albert was waiting to walk her down the aisle and she was glad to see that he wasn't floating on the ceiling!<p>

"Ready my dear?" he asked, beaming at her as she emerged, bouquet of flowers in one hand.

"I am, Uncle Albert." she said calmly and she truly was. Mrs. Brown hugged her, already getting teary before dashing off to take her seat. It was to be a relatively low key affair. Just her and Bert, Gavin and Mrs. Brown, the entire Banks family, Cook, and a few of Bert's sweep friends.

Linking her arm through her uncle's, she waited at his side until the music changed into the "Canon In D", a song that both she and Bert had liked.

Her steps were measured and slow as they rounded the corner and she could finally see everyone. It was a little hard to recognize some of the sweeps without soot on their faces and she was also glad and taken aback to see some of her former charges gathered as well, young men and women whom she had helped.

As they got closer to the altar, she sought out Bert and wanted to laugh and cry. His, and the other men's bowties were perfect replicas of the one he had always worn for their "jolly holidays". This had to be the surprise that Michael had been referring to and when her eyes met Bert's, he grinned a little.

His hair was smoothed down and the grey suit he wore perfect but it was the expression on his face that had her heart singing within her. There was awe, as well as a a deep and unbreakable affection. Suddenly, all she wanted was to race to him in a _very_ undignified manner! But she would get there soon enough.

Uncle Albert turned to her as they reached the bottom step and lifted the shimmering veil to kiss her cheek. As he did so, she felt a sense of finality. There would be no going back to the way she was after this.

Smiling, though his eyes were filling up already, Uncle Albert placed her hand in Bert's gently. She gripped her future husband's hand tightly and was reassured when he gave a small squeeze in response.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join together these two souls in holy matrimony." the preacher began. Mary's heart was thumping in her ears so loudly that she could hardly hear what he was saying. Finally, it came time for them to make their vows to each other.

"Herbert James Alfred, do you take this woman, Mary Alise Poppins to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cleave unto her and her only in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish all the days of your life?"

"I do." he said, his voice ringing with conviction. She could hear sniffles coming from behind her, as well as to her side. Jane, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Banks, to be sure.

"Mary Alise Poppins, do you take this man, Herbert James Alfred to be you lawfully wedded husband? To cleave unto him and him only in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish all the days of your life?"

"I do." she replied, looking up into Bert's eyes. She had never seen his eyes shine as brightly as they did now.

"The rings, please."

Robby stepped forward and Bert nimbly detached the rings from his lapel. She smiled softly at the thoughtful way in which Bert had figured out a way for his friend to fulfill the duties of best man.

"Place the ring upon her hand and repeat these words." the minister instructed.

Bert did so, sliding a plain gold band onto his finger to join the ring that had been in his family for years. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Taking the heavier ring, she placed it onto his hand as she repeated the age old words. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Looking out over the congregation, the minister asked, "If any know of a reason these two should not be wedded, speak now or forever hold your peace."

It was silent...until Robby sneezed loudly.

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd and Mary saw Robby's flaming face as he sheepishly ducked his head. Even the minister was smiling.

"If there are no objections, then it is my pleasure, through the authority granted to me by the Church and the Crown, to pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Bert enthusiastically pulled the veil over her head before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her tenderly. She lost all sense of time and place before the whoops and whistles reminded her.

Blushing heavily, she turned to look out over the people who had come to share in this special day with them. Mrs. Banks was crying, as was Mrs. Brown. Uncle Albert was a wreck and even Cook was weeping a little. Bert's sweep friends had been the ones who'd been whistling and whooping at them, and she couldn't help but laugh as he gave them all a mock dirty look.

The organ struck up the familiar "Wedding March" and Bert looped his arm though hers as they made their way down the aisle as man and wife. All there was to do now was change into their traveling clothes and go to the station to catch the train that would be taking them to Scotland.

* * *

><p>Bert finished dressing and moved to stand outside to wait for Mary. Gavin stood there, eyes suspiciously bright. "Oh don't take on so, Gav." Bert teased, hugging the young man.<p>

"Everybody cries at weddings." was his muffled response and Bert chuckled, stepping back.

"So they say." he nodded. Gavin smiled before looking pointedly over at Jane. Curiously, Bert looked at her as well and it wasn't until she had dabbed at her eyes again that he noticed the flash of something gold on her left hand.

He whirled back to Gavin. "Did you..?" he began, unable to finish the sentence.

Gavin nodded, his smile wider than Bert had ever seen it. "I spoke with her Father and we'll be married in March, after her birthday. Gives me some time to fix the house up and get it ready."

"I'm happy for you, Gav." Bert said as he hugged him again. "And Jerry would be happy too. Remember that."

"I will." Gavin promised, quickly brushing at his face with his sleeve. Jane looked over at them and blushed prettily when Bert nodded his head to her.

Olivia was standing with Mrs. Banks. looking ill at east and Bert made his way over to her. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. She had seemed very pleased when Mary had asked her to be a bridesmaid.

"It's...Robby." she sighed. "He asked me to marry him a few months ago and I told him I needed time. He asked me again and it's awful, Bert! I just don't love him that way and when I tried to speak to him about it, he brushed it off like he always does."

Bert's good mood came down for a moment. He knew that Robby liked her, but he also knew in his heart it wouldn't be a good match. "I'm sorry, Olivia. Give him some time, and maybe just write to him. Seems like he takes _that_ a bit serious."

She smiled appreciatively at his effort to cheer her up before kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Bert. And congratulations. I know you and Mary will be very happy."

"Thank you." he said, his mood rising again.

The door opened and Mary came out. She had been beautiful in her wedding dress and she looked beautiful still. Taking her hand into his amid good wishes and last embraces, they got into the carriage and began the journey to the train station.

As they rolled along in comfortable silence, Bert was surprised to find himself singing an old song with slightly new words.

_"It's a jolly wedding day with Mary, Mary's made my life so light. When the war had left me low and wary, Mary helped me stand and fight. Now our lives will be tied up together, She'll be the only one I'm thinking of. When Mary holds my hand, I still feel grand, My heart's still beatin' like the big ol' band Oh it's a jolly wedding day with Mary. And she's the only one I'll ever love. Oh she's the only one I'll ever love..."_

She turned her gaze from the window and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Bert." she said softly as her fingers curled around his.

"I love you too." he said just as quietly as their carriage arrived at the train station.

* * *

><p>The journery from Scotland had been long and as she sat in the bathroom of their hotel room, she couldn't help but think it hadn't been long enough! The red nightgown Cook has insisted on lay on the counter and Mary stared at it like it had grown an addition head.<p>

It was so _short_! It barely came to her knees! And there were no sleeves! She couldn't do this. At least, not like this.

Trying to breathe deeply, she scolded herself. It was a nightgown. It was not going to bite her. And after tonight she never had to wear it again.

Having settled this to her satisfaction, she tugged it on, not daring to look at herself in the mirror. Reaching up with shaking hands, she plucked the pins from her hair, letting it cascaded around her shoulder. She was letting her hair down in every way tonight it seemed.

Biting her lip, she finally opened the door slowly. Bert was already sitting on the edge of the bed and she could see from here that his shoulders were tense. She remebered Cook saying that he would be nervous too and knowing that he truly was made her feel a bit better.

Hesitantly, she walked across the floor with slow steps before lightly resting her hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and his facial expression made her feel embarrassed and empowered at the same time. He swallowed hard before saying quietly, "If you want to wait, we don't have to do this tonight, Mary."

The fact that he would actually do this for her removed any last vestiges of doubt and she shook her head. "No, Bert. I don't want to wait."

He nodded and she sat down beside him. As his arm looped around her, she pulled his face to her and kissed him like she had the day they became engaged. He pulled her closer and her last coherent thought was that she had been a silly fool to fear this.

* * *

><p>Something was tickling his nose and as he woke up more fully, Bert realized that it was Mary's hair. Smiling to himself, he shifted slightly so he could see her face as she slept. The morning sun looked like gold on her pale skin and he was reflecting to himself that he would have to paint this when she awoke herself.<p>

'"Good morning, Mrs. Alfred." he teased.

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Alfred." she teased back.

He laughed, but the laughter ceased when her fingers found something on his right shoulder. "Bert, what's that?" she asked curiously.

"It's a scar." he said.

She gave him her _"yes,_ I already knew that" look and he realized that he couldn't keep secrets from her. He had to be open about _everything_.

"I got it durning the war." he continued quietly. "It...it's from the same shell that took my leg."

Her face softened and she became the one that was holding him instead of the other way around. "I'm sorry you had to go through that alone, Bert."

A thought struck him and he looked into her eyes. "I'm not alone anymore, Mary." he said. "And that's what counts."

The Alfreds did _not_ make it in time for breakfast.


	14. Epilogue

_Well, this is it people! The last chapter. Yes, there will be a sequal (and another one after that. My own verbosity sometimes comes back to bite me in the rear). Thanks to you all for reading this and hopefully I'll see you for round two! I hope to start getting it up either this week but for sure next week when I'm not working as much._

* * *

><p><em>(London, 1923)<em>

"And they're still married?" Davey asked as Michael cleared his throat.

"They are." the young man nodded. "About a year later, their son Jerome Gavin Alfred was born. They call him Jerry and then his sister Sarah Elizabeth came along a couple years ago."

Matthew smiled as he carefully picked up the picture and began to fold it back up. It sounded like Bert Alfred had found everything he'd hoped.

"And, they found out last week they're having another!" Michael laughed.

"They obviously love each other." James commented with a chuckle and the others nodded.

A strange sense of let down was working its way through Matthew as the others asked Michael questions about his sister and Gavin, but he roused himself enough to hear that Jane and Gavin had a little boy, Herbert Jerome whom they called "Herbie" so as not to get him confused with Bert. Tucking the drawing into his jacket, Matthew wondered what he should do with it now. He knew the story, and didn't need to take it with him everywhere he went.

But it had almost been a talisman for him. It had always been there, through all of the things he'd faced.

Michael was watching him and said, in an almost offhand way, "You know sir, I bet Bert would get a kick out of knowing that his picture was saved. Let me give you directions to their house."

Nodding, Matthew found a piece of paper tucked in one of his other pockets and Michael drew him a neat map so that he was able to find his way to number 8, Haversham Court.

Rising to his feet, he hoped that Bert wouldn't view his coming as an intrusion into his life. It had beem seven years since they had last met.

* * *

><p>The house was lovely. As Matthew stood contemplating it, he could see the work and care that had gone into it. The flowers were blooming and the small lawn was green. Now that he was standing here, he wondered if this was such a good idea.<p>

He took a deep breath, trying to relax his stiff shoulders. Before the war, he would have thought nothing of going to see someone that he didn't know well. But he had come back changed. Indecision racked him over even the simplest things and he found it hard to force himself into social situations. His family didn't understand and as his father's heir, he'd had to find it within himself to keep going.

As he thought that perhaps he wouldn't go in after all, a small child came bounding up to him. "Hi!" the boy said brightly.

Matthew couldn't help but smile as he crouched down so that he would be on eye level with the lad. "Hello." he said softly. "My name is Matthew Wallace. What are you called?"

"My name's Jerome Alfred, but Mummy and Daddy only call me that when I'm in trouble. Most other times, everybody calls me Jerry." the child explained.

"Pleased to meet you, Jerry." Matthew chuckled as he reached out and shook the boy's small hand solemnly in his. Jerry beamed at him as a male voice called, "Oi! Jerry! What're ya doing?"

"It's fine, Daddy." Jerry called back cheerfully. "This is Matthew Wallace!"

Turning his head, Matthew saw Bert Alfred for the first time in seven years. The years had been kind to him and he immediately grinned widely, bringing back a lot of memories for Matthew.

"Cap'n Wallace!" he greeted cheerfully, stumping over at a rapid clip, hand extended.

Matthew rose to his feet, smiling as he clasped Bert's hand firmly. "Sergeant Alfred. Good to see you again."

"Why'd he call Daddy Sergeant, Mummy?" Jerry asked as he looked up at his mother.

"Because that was Daddy's title durning the war." Mary explained and Matthew had to admit that the years had been _very_ kind to her as well. "Captain Wallace and Daddy were in the same unit."

"You were in the war?" Jerry asked, gazing at him admiringly.

"I was." Matthew said softly. "It's been a while though."

"That it has." Bert agreed as Mary shifted little Sarah to her other hip. "Things have changed."

"And yet, some things haven't." Matthew teased, inclinging his head toward Mary, who looked befuddled. Bert flushed red before motioning to the house with his free hand.

"Why don't you come in? I haven't seen you in ages."

"I'd like that." Matthew agreed as he followed after Bert and Jerry, who was bouncing ahead excitedly at the prospect of a visitor.

"So you're Captain Wallace." Mary said with a smile as they entered the house. "Bert's told me many stories about you."

"Good ones, I hope." Matthew quipped lightly and was taken aback when she nodded.

"Yes. Bert's always had a lot of respect for you." she commented as he silently hung up his coat. What was he supposed to say to that? He didn't feel particularly respectable these days.

"For me? What did I do to deserve that?" he asked, almost half to himself.

"You cared. Bert told me of how you always wrote the letters to the families yourself instead of letting a commander who didn't know their sons at all do it." she said sympathetically.

Matthew clenched his jaw. Of all the people that he had spoken to after he'd come home, Mary Alfred was the only one who seemed to even had an inkling of what he'd been through.

"Someone needed to care about those boys. And if I hadn't, then no one would have." he shrugged, but it felt like some of the burden that he had been carrying had begun to ease. She just smiled, as though she knew everything he wasn't saying before showing him into the living room where Bert was sitting on the floor, Jerry and Sarah trying to wrestle with him.

The scene reminded him of his uncle Marcus, who had done the same thing with Matthew and his four siblings. He also opted for a seat on the floor and Sarah immediately made her way over to him. He settled her on his knee as he did with his nieces and nephews before pulling out the faded drawing and handing it to Bert, who took it with a puzzled air before opening it. He gasped. "It can't be! Did you..."

"I did." Matthew said, grinning for the first time in a long while. "When I lost track of you after the Somme, I took this drawing with me and hoped that one day, I would find you and also find out if you had ever found her again. Michael Banks was my server at the Boar's Head last night and recognized the drawing. He told my friends and I the whole story, and he ghought I should return this to you, which I agreed with."

"Return what?" Mary asked as she primly settled herself into a chair.

"This." Bert said with a smile as he passed it to her. She took it before giving him a look of love and exasperation. He just grinned cheekily at her and she rolled her eyes.

"He drew it the night before the battle." Matthew supplied. "We were asking him if he had a girl and he said he didn't, but that there was someone he cared about very much. Then, he drew that."

"Oh Bert, you silly romantic you." Mary sighed and he shrugged.

"It was the truth, Mary. It's always been you." Bert said softly.

"Ewww!" Jerry complained. "She's gonna kiss him now!"

Matthew couldn't help his laughter as he ruffled Jeryy's hair. "I think your Dad had to wait quite a while before your Mum would kiss him."

"That I did." Bert muttered and Mary lightly smacked his arm, which only served to increase Matthew's mirth. He was glad that he had come here today.

* * *

><p>Bert watched Matthew Wallace leave from the window and the smile slowly faded from his face. If he'd had to hazard a guess, he would think that his old captain wasn't doing as well as he would like others to believe. He knew that Mary had said something to him, but he wasn't going to ask unless she volunteered something.<p>

But he hoped that perhaps, they could help. He'd always liked young Captain Wallace and it pained him to see someone younger than him looking so...defeated. It was as though the war had won in the life of Matthew Wallace.

And as they had shared dinner with him and talked afterward, Bert found that Matthew was an intelligent, eloquent man who felt things very keenly and perhaps this why the war had taken such a toll on him.

"I rather like your captain." Mary commented as she came into the room, also watching as Matthew strode away down the street.

"I do too. Always did." Bert replied, arms folded over his chest. A thought occured to him and an all too familiar smile touched his lips. Mary noticed this and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you plotting, love?" she demanded.

"Who says I'm plotting?" he asked, turning an innocent gaze to her.

She wasn't fooled for even a second. "Herbert James Alfred, I _know_ you. What. Are. You. Plotting?"

"Well...I was just thinking that perhaps Olivia should meet Matthew. He was saying that his father has had business dealings with her father..."

"No! You are NOT going to matchmake! Again!"

Bert sighed. "Honestly, I don't even try! How I was supposed to know that your Uncle Albert and Cook were going to get on so well? Or that the twelve students in that art seminar I taughter were going to get together? Olivia's been telling me how none of the men with titles understand her. I think Matthew would. And maybe if she meets him, she won't turn men away out of hand."

"That's...rather logical." Mary said, sounding surprised.

"I'm capable of thinking logically on occasion." he said loftily.

"Only when you're plotting." she countered and he laughed as he pulled her close to him with his left arm. She snuggled against his side for a moment before a crash was heard from the living room and Jerry voice called, "Mummy...I broke something!"

Both of the sighed and as they left to go see what destruction Jerry had accomplished this time, Bert thought to himself that he would invite Matthew to the exhibition Robby had cooked up. People were coming to display art, poetry and other things from the war. And maybe even he could get Matthew, as a commander, to talk about what the war had been like for him. And if he happened to bump into Olivia...well, so be it!


End file.
